


Adjust

by FrankieFandom



Series: Not Like This [1]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brain Damage, Career Ending Injuries, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, hurt!Casey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieFandom/pseuds/FrankieFandom
Summary: AU Post 2.10 Not Like This. Sometimes there's no going back.





	1. Salvage

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU based on Casey's accident in 2.10 Not Like This. I'm not a medical professional but the topic is one that I'm very interested in. I have tried my best to make sure the medical side of this story is realistic. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Relief had spread through the room after being told the firehouse would not be closing down. The celebrations died down and Shay announced, "Guys, on that happy note Dawson has an announcement to make."

"I do?" Dawson questioned a little uncertainly but she knew exactly what Shay was talking about. She'd not told Casey that she was going ahead with her plan for certain. She'd not done as he'd suggested and got some more information about what it would be like to be a female firefighter, but she had never really intended to. She had her heart set on the idea as soon as she had received the letter through the mail.

"Yeah you do," Shay encouraged.

"Erm..." she began a little cautiously before announcing, "Today I found out that I was officially accepted to the fire academy, to become a firefighter." She didn't miss the look of disappointment on Casey's face. She should have talked it through with him again, she should have taken his advice.

"You'll make a great firefighter, Dawson," Mouch said, and the others added on their thoughts whilst Casey stood with disappointment and perhaps a little annoyance etched across his face. He and Dawson were a couple and it felt like she was doing this without even taking his opinion into account. He tried to wipe the discontent from his features but failed. He carefully slipped out of the room and headed to his quarters without saying anything.

Dawson followed quickly in pursuit despite his stealthy exit. "Matt?" she called after him. He stopped before he could reach his office.

He turned around. "What happened to taking some time to think about it?" He was annoyed she hadn't taken his advice on board, it wasn't as if he didn't know what he was talking about, he'd been with the CFD for over ten years now.

"What? You don't support me on this?" she replied defensively.

"No, I do," he said honestly. Hesitantly he continued, "I just thought, as I suggested, that you talk to some other people, consider all your options."

Stubbornly she responded, "Well, this is happening."

"I can see that," he replied, disappointed that his opinion didn't matter even though they were supposed to be in a relationship together.

The alarms went off and interrupted their conversation. " _Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Engine 51, Battalion 25; Apartment fire, 5021 Quincy..."_  
  
"You ok, bud?" Severide questioned as he and Casey pulled on their turnout pants and grabbed their jackets.

"Fine," Casey replied stiffly before getting into his truck, leaving Severide to make a mental note to question him again after the call.

The apartment building was already engulfed in flames when fire crews arrived on the scene; Casey jumped out the truck and got to work immediately. "Herrmann with me. We're taking the top floor."

"We'll start right below you," Severide stated and both truck and squad crews entered the apartment.

"How we lookin' in there?" Boden called through the radio.

" _It's rollin' Chief,"_ Severide replied.

"Engine 51 looks like we're losing. Hold it back a little longer 'til we clear the building. Then we're gonna back out and go defensive," Boden said to the awaiting engine crew as he watched the building from the outside.

In the building they were searching for victims. "Watch those stairs! Herrmann stay with me," Casey called out as they headed up to the next floor.

"Count on it," Herrmann replied, he followed his lieutenant.

 _"Truck 81 I need an update,"_ Boden called through the radio.

Casey grabbed his radio. "Chief, we're halfway through the fourth floor. Still more to search _."_  
  
_"Squad 3 coming out!"_ Casey heard Severide's voice through the radio.

"All right I'm calling it," Boden spoke to those surrounding him before giving his orders into the radio. "Evacuate the building. Evacuate the building right now!"

 _"Copy, on our way,"_ Casey replied promptly.

Just as the two members of Truck 81 were about to head down the stairs Casey heard something that made him turn, there was a woman crawling towards them, the two of them went straight over to her and heard her crying out. "My baby! Please my baby! Please help me! My baby! She's in her crib!"

"Where?" Casey asked frantically knowing there was little time left.

"She's in the back bedroom," she coughed out.

"Get her out of here," Casey ordered Herrmann. "I'm going after the baby."

"No, Casey! You take her! I'll get the kid!" he argued through the roar of the flames, knowing there was barely time to get themselves out.

"Herrmann, you have a family! I'll get the baby! That's an order!" he yelled through his mask.

"Lieutenant, no! Casey!"

But his lieutenant had already left in search of the baby; Herrmann grabbed the woman and made his way to the exit.

Casey found the room and had to kick down the door to get through to the baby in the crib. He picked her up carefully. "Hold on sweetie," he said soothingly amongst the noise of the fire and buckling building. "Hold on. I've got you." He opened up the top of his turnout jacket and gently put her inside before turning around to see his only exit was engulfed in fire, he steadied himself before quickly running through hoping the rest of the corridor wasn't immersed in flames. Thankfully it wasn't so he continued quickly towards the stairs, he doubted they would remain upright for much longer.

 _"Casey, I need an update,"_ Boden demanded through the radio.

"Almost there," he replied as he reached the top of the stairs. They were surrounded by flames so he charged down. He felt relieved when he could just about see the light of the exit. As he headed to the open door the stairs gave way behind him and parts of the ceiling began cascading down around him. He looked up just as a large beam came crashing down.

Boden watched as smoke and debris shot out of the front exit and windows. "Structural collapse! Mayday! Help Casey! Help Casey!" He ran towards the building with Severide and several other squad members.

Severide knelt down in front of the building to put his mask on, his heart was pounding, once his mask was on he walked into the building. "Casey?" he called out, he could hear his PASS alarm blaring and the baby crying. His heart felt like it would burst through his chest at any moment.

"Severide, here!" Boden called out from ahead.

"Oh God..." he muttered as he saw Casey through the smoke. The impact of the beam had knocked his helmet clean off and forced him to the ground. He now lay wedged and trapped beneath it. Severide's immediate worry was that the beam holding him in place rested all its weight on his fallen friend, but after a quick glance he saw that one side was being supported higher than the other with the help of the fallen stairs. It wasn't crushing Casey.

"You two, grab that side, we'll take this side. Severide, slide him out when we lift it up!" Boden ordered. Severide took hold of Casey ready to pull him out as the others lifted the beam. "And lift!" Boden commanded.

Severide pulled Casey free from underneath the beam as carefully as he could. Casey was still unconscious when Boden took the baby out of his turnout jacket. Severide couldn't rouse him before the four of them carried him out of the building and onto the waiting gurney. They had slipped off his mask and oxygen tank, blood was dripping sickeningly down his face but Severide couldn't see any lacerations through the thick substance and mattered blond hair. He jumped into the back of the ambulance with Dawson whilst Shay got into the front and drove off.

In the ambulance they quickly took the rest of his gear off, opening his turnout jacket and cutting through his tops to check for injuries. There was blood everywhere but they hadn't found its source. Dawson slipped an oxygen mask over his head, stuck ECG sensors onto his bloody chest, inserted an IV cannula into the top of his hand for quick access, and placed a pulse oximeter on his finger before examining him further.  
  
"Oh God..." Dawson pulled her hands back from his head, they were slick with blood. "Shay, call in and tell them we have a severe TBI incoming!"

"Dawson!" Severide called as he saw Casey's eyes flicker. He leant closer over him. "Case? Buddy?"  
  
Casey's flicked open once again and a small whimper escaped his lips.  
  
"You're going to be ok," he said but Casey's eyes closed and a resounding alarm went off.

"His O2 stats are dropping, I'm going to intubate," she said and she began rapid sequence intubation. She injected the Lidocaine into the cannula at the top of his hand to supress his cough reflex in a matter of seconds. She then grabbed another syringe, continuing the intubation process. She positioned the endotracheal tube and inserted it, she checked its location before attaching the ambu-bag. The whole process took only a few moments and quickly Casey's lungs were being manually ventilated, and his oxygen stats rose as Dawson squeezed the bag.

At the hospital Casey was whisked away to the awaiting neurosurgeon and team of doctors and nurses, leaving Severide standing in the entranceway staring at the path his friends gurney had just taken. Shay walked up to him and gently spoke, "Kelly? Come on, we can't do anything now let's…" She was interrupted.

One of the doctors walked up to them. "We're taking him straight up to the OR, you should contact any family," he said sternly.

"Wait, wait..." Severide called out as the doctor began to walk away. "What do you mean? What's wrong? I'm family," he spoke hurriedly.

"It's a crush injury, he has a depressed skull fracture, they need to act fast and salvage what they can. Someone will inform you when we know more," the doctor told him and before Severide could question him further he was called away by another member of staff.

"Salvage?" he repeated, his breath caught in his throat, his heart was racing and his stomach tightened. "Oh God… But he woke up… in the ambo he woke up… he looked at me… salvage?"

"Kelly, come on, we're in the way here," Shay spoke softly to him and took his arm.

"Shay?" his voice shook.

She looked up into his eyes that were brimming with tears and spoke firmly, "He's just as stubborn as you are, Kelly."

Whilst Severide, Shay and Dawson made their way to the waiting room Casey was being prepped for surgery to save his life. He had a crushing head injury. His skull had a depressed fracture and the force of the beam had further fragmented the bone; several small pieces of his skull had penetrated his brain. Casey was firmly secured to the table, his hair was shaved away, the wound site was cleaned and Mannitol was administered to maintain intracranial pressure. During the length of the surgery his oxygen levels, heart rate, anaesthesia, ICP, and GSC score would be constantly monitored. The surgeon began by making a horseshoe shaped incision over the depression. Once the incision was made he elevated the fragments and carefully retracted the pieces that had penetrated his brain before repairing the dura. The bony fragments were soaked in antibiotic solution before reassembled; the larger pieces had to be wired together. The surgery would take hours.

Boden and the rest of 51 arrived at the hospital to discover Severide pacing around the waiting room and Shay sat worriedly with her head in her hands. "What do we know?" he asked.  
  
Severide just shook his head and Boden looked towards Shay.

"They rushed him to surgery when we got here, he's in there now; that's all we really know," she replied.

Boden nodded. "Where's Dawson?"

"Calling his mom and sister," Shay replied.

Half way through Casey's surgery they were updated, and Shay finally managed to convince Severide to take off his turnout jacket and sit down with the others.

Casey was taken into the ICU after the surgeon closed the incision with staples, it was messy but quick and Casey had already been in surgery for most of the night. The wound was covered in a thick white gauze with a tensor bandage wrapped around his head, securing it and the ICP monitor in place. The surgery had gone well but there was now the risk of an intracranial hematoma and blood clots developing, so along with the usual immediate postoperative care these were kept in mind by all the staff working with him. Casey's GSC score of nine when he had been admitted had dropped to a dangerously low seven and the surgeon went to inform his family and friends.

"Family and friends of Matthew Casey?" he questioned as he walked into the waiting room, he discovered at least nine firefighters who all stood up immediately upon hearing his patients name. "The surgery went as well as expected, I managed to remove the fragmented pieces of bone, elevate the fracture and repair it. There was enough bone to fix it together with wire rather than use a metal plate. However he was barely responsive before the surgery and he's now slipped into a coma, I'm sorry."

Severide frowned. "You're sorry? He's not dead."

"The likelihood of waking from the coma with no permanent damage after a severe brain injury isn't unlikely, it's impossible, the damage is too severe…" 

"But he will wake up?" Severide questioned.

"The next twenty-four hours are critical, we're hoping to know more soon," the doctor explained.

"Hoping?" Severide repeated.

"Every brain injury is different but he's alive; there is brain activity but he's not responding to any stimulus at the moment," he tried to reassure them all. Casey's pupils were unreactive to light because of his depressed brainstem reflexes, and except for some reflex movements there was no response to painful stimuli.

"When he wakes up…" Severide began, he was now stood next to the doctor, mostly out of earshot from the others.

The doctor interjected, "I'm afraid it's an if, not a when."

"You don't know him; it's a when," Severide stated with determination. "When he wakes what will happen?"

"We salvaged as much as we could during the surgery but it was difficult; fragments of his skull had broken off and infiltrated both the frontal and temporal lobes," the doctor explained. The frontal lobe involved motor skills, emotions, memory, problem solving, language and social behaviour. Damage to which could cause concentration and executive function difficulties, memory impairment, personality changes and communication problems. Damage to the temporal lobe also suggested there could be an impaired ability to comprehend language, and an inability to pay attention to what he saw or heard.

"Salvaged?" Severide questioned worriedly. This was the second time a doctor had used the word and in had no positive connotations in regards to injury.

"There will be no return to his previous self, but there may be some function," the doctor explained bluntly.

"Some function... What do you mean?" 

"Walking, talking, thinking, remembering and understanding," the doctor listed. "Some of them, maybe even all of them may be effected. Like I said, brain injuries are tricky to evaluate, we'll know more if he wakes up."

It was now Severide realised he was glad Casey hadn't decided upon no extraordinary measures, because what the doctors had done to keep him alive certainly was extraordinary, but what if he didn't wake up? What if he was in a permanently vegetative state? Who would make his decisions for him? He'd not updated his next of kin since Hallie had died, and so far they'd not managed to contact his mom. He assumed his sister would be the one making the decisions if his mom wasn't reached, and he only hoped she'd make the right decisions. He shook his head as his morbid thoughts. Casey would make it through this.  
  
"Can we see him?" Severide asked the doctor hopefully.

"One on one visits only. A nurse will come and inform you when you can go in, it won't be too long," the doctor replied. "His family?" he turned and questioned all those there for Casey.

"His sister will be here in a few hours," Boden, who had kept quiet out of concern previously, spoke up and explained.

"Let her know I'm available for any questions she has," the doctor said curtly and left the members of House 51 to comprehend the news they had just received. Shay had her arm around Dawson who was crying, and Severide had the urge to tell her that he wasn't dead yet, but everyone seemed to be acting like he was.

Soon Severide was able to enter the ICU to see Casey. The nurse had warned him but he still wasn't prepared to see Casey lying so still and pale surrounded by so many different monitors and attached to so many different tubes and wires. A ventilator provided much needed oxygen, there were numerous intravenous lines delivering medication and fluid. There was an arterial line measuring his blood pressure, ECG electrodes on his chest were monitoring his heart rate, a pulse oximeter on his finger measuring the amount of oxygen in his system, a catheter to relieve his bladder, and an ICP monitor that indicated the amount of pressure in his brain through a small hole in his skull. Severide could already tell by the lack of hair sticking out from under the bandage that they had been forced to shave all his friends blond hair, the skin around his eyes was bruised and sunken; he looked so small and fragile surrounded by all the equipment, almost unrecognisable.

"Can he hear me?" he questioned quietly. 

The nurse nodded. "Talk to him."

Severide moved closer. "Hey, Case..." he began brightly but then he didn't really know what to say, he sighed and his gaze remained fixed on Casey's closed eyes, he could hear the sound of the ventilator and the constant noise of the heartrate monitor, it all seemed so unreal, like he had stepped into a nightmare.

"Just talk to him like you normally would, sometimes patients wake from comas and can remember their family and friends being around," the nurse said softly.

He nodded and began again. "You're an idiot but that baby, she's gonna be fine, and her mom, they'll both be home in a couple of days. You've got everyone worried about you, I know you don't like that, so you should hurry up and wake up, I mean, even I'm worried and that's not good for my reputation, right?"

A few hours later Christie arrived and spoke to the doctor before visiting her brother in the ICU. Meanwhile Severide was sitting in the waiting room, praying for the twenty-four hours of critical time to hurry in hope of good news. But as he was waiting he was researching brain injuries and comas using the internet on his phone, it did very little to raise his hopes. Dawson was on the phone to her brother, explaining what had happened to Casey and on a lighter note how she'd decided to go for the firefighting training, but the tone changed when she became concerned about how she would need to help Casey when he woke, then all of a sudden she was distraught.  
  
Severide was tired of Dawson's melodramatics, he put down his phone. "Do you know how likely it is that someone will wake up from a coma? And even then not be in some sort of vegetative state? So quit worrying about what he's going to be like when he wakes up! This isn't about you, so stop being so selfish, all our thoughts need to be praying that there aren't any complications and that he will wake up!"


	2. Waking

Christmas came and went whilst Casey remained in his coma. He received fewer and fewer visitors as the weeks passed by, but Severide's visits remained as regular as clockwork whilst the rest of 51, along with his sister, only flittered by every so often. Casey was now in his own room after being moved from the critical care setting of the ICU, he was breathing on his own and was no longer hooked up to the mechanical ventilator, but his respiration rate was still low so they used an oxygen mask to keep his levels up. He had lost weight but was receiving feeds through an NG tube and fluids. The white bandage that had been wrapped around his damaged head had been removed and replaced with a simple gauze over the incision sight, which was routinely checked for signs of infection. His hair was already growing back, Severide noted the fuzz of fresh blond hair, and his nurses kept him clean shaven and bathed him every day, one of the measures implemented to prevent any pressure sores. They charted his temperature, heartrate, oxygen levels and blood pressure every few hours, and changed his catheter bag when needed. A physical therapist worked with Casey to help preserve his muscle tone and mobility. The staff also worked tirelessly to prevent any systemic complications like pneumonia due to Casey's immobilisation.

"It's 2014 tomorrow, Casey. A whole new year so ya kinda got to wake up, yeah?" Severide quipped softly as he was sitting next to Casey's still form.

But Casey didn't wake up before the New Year and there was no miraculously awakening on the first day of the New Year either.

They received a call from the hospital whilst they were on shift. Severide had feared the worst. He feared that Casey had declined and there was now no hope. The news wasn't great but it wasn't bad either; Casey had woken but not to the extent that he was fully aware. There was spontaneous eye opening and he would visually track another person around his room. Casey was in a minimally conscious state. He seemed aware of his surroundings and he made eye contact to those around him, he would even weakly grip the doctors hand when instructed. When Severide arrived at the hospital after his shift was over he was told that it was good news because it was likely the MCS was a transitional phase. But there was no timeframe or guarantee of further improvement, but Severide insisted that he could tell that his friend was still there.

Dawson visited the next day, she spoke to Casey as if he weren't really there and as she left Severide watched a single tear fall. "Hey, don't do that." He wiped the tear away. "She'll be back, she's just worried, she doesn't know what to say," Severide tried to reassure him but it was difficult, he didn't know what his friend was thinking, he didn't know if Dawson would be back and he was petrified that this was going to be it for Casey.

He wanted to stay positive and enthusiastic around Casey as he seemed to be able to pay more attention then. Every so often he would completely switch off but his doctor said that it wasn't unusual. Severide had asked the doctor if there was anything he could do to contribute to a good recovery, to help Casey wake from this minimal conscious state, where only parts of his brain were awake and processing information but his answer had been inconclusive. It wasn't known whether any repetitive daily cognitive stimulation or other technique would help Casey's recovery at this point. So Severide would sit by his side as the doctor performed his tests each day and spoke to Casey as he normally would.

Casey had opened his eyes to a disorienting, bright and loud world. No one was there so he simply succumbed to sleep. Over the next forty-eight hours the world continued to disorientate him, he saw Severide on more than one occasion but he couldn't reply to anything he asked, the words seemed to get stuck and then he forgot what he was trying to say in the first place. He wondered where Dawson was, shouldn't she be here? Everything was confusing, there were too many people, he didn't recognise them, they asked him questions, told him to squeeze his hands or move some part of himself, he understood them but the instructions didn't seem to penetrate his damaged brain, he wanted to move but he couldn't, he wanted to speak but the words became lost and jumbled in his own mind before they even reached his lips.

Severide watched as Casey struggled to move, his actions were slow, jerky at times and they didn't always correlate to what he had been asked to do. He wondered if Casey was aware that his body wasn't cooperating or if his brain was so damaged that he simply didn't care, he wondered if there was little of the person he knew still left inside his head. Casey didn't even try to speak but the doctor wasn't as concerned as Severide, not yet because he knew this state should improve, he already had improved, he would track objects when asked just as he would naturally track people around his room. He had been in a coma for nearly four weeks, it was going to take time for his consciousness to improve, and then they would see what deficits he was left with from the injury and the operation.

In a few days time when Casey woke he felt much more aware of himself and of his surroundings. The world still seemed like a busy and disorientating place but he felt as if he was in it now rather than just a bystander.

A man greeted him and explained that he was a doctor. "Can you tell me your name?"

Casey desperately wanted to answer but found that the rest of his body seemed disconnected from his thoughts.

"Do you understand me?" he asked softly. The doctor would wait a few minutes before he repeated the question, but he had no need to repeat this time as he watched Casey nod. "Good," he smiled. "We'll nod for yes," the doctor demonstrated, "And shake for no. Ok?"

After a few moments Casey nodded in response. He understood the doctor but everything seemed to take a long time to reach his ears.

"You were in an accident," the doctor informed him. "Do you remember?"

Casey opened his lips to answer but no sound came out, he scrunched his face in frustration and shook his head.

"It's ok if you can't remember, and it's ok that you're not speaking. We're going to work on that," he smiled reassuringly. "You had emergency surgery and you've been in a coma for nearly a month," he explained simply and clearly. "You're on a heavy cocktail of drugs at the moment but we've starting reducing them, hopefully this will make everything feel less clouded. I'm going to ask you some questions and then I'll let you rest."

Casey struggled to concentrate on the doctor, but tried his best to do as he was asked. He squeezed the doctors hands, or at least he thought he did, as he looked down he saw his hands barely gripped the doctors, but the man seemed pleased with him nonetheless. Casey grew concerned when his feet didn't listen to his instructions, and when he began to ask questions with numbers Casey became frustrated, he didn't understand, he didn't know what was wanted so when he was asked to hold up three fingers he just shakily lifted his hand an inch from the bed.

The doctor swivelled the tabled over Casey's lap and placed down five cards. "These cards tell a story. Can you put them in the right order?"

Casey looked down at the cards, he looked at each individual card, they each had a picture, he understood what was happening in each of them but putting them in any sort of order seemed beyond him. He looked up at the doctor, he'd already forgotten what he was supposed to be doing, what were the cards doing in front of him?

"It's ok, there's no time limit, see if you can make a story with them," the doctor smiled.

Looking back down at the cards he wondered if moving them around would help him decide which order they went in. Slowly and stiffly he moved his right hand up to the table. He went to touch the card on the far right, but as he brought his hand down it went nowhere near his intended target, he frowned and tried again.

After three unsuccessful attempts the doctor decided to call it a day. "We'll do it again another time, you're tired but you've done really well." He removed the cards and moved the table before stating, "If you need anything; press this." He indicated to the call button above the bed controls.  
  
Casey nodded in acknowledgement. The call button was small, and if Casey had been more lucid he may have wondered if he'd even be able to press something in such a confined area when he couldn't even place his hand on the card he had wanted.

The doctor was just about to leave the room he heard a barely audible sound, he turned round and Casey tried again, he felt like he was yelling the word inside his head before it finally came out once more. "Sev..."

"Kelly Severide?" the doctor question, the word had been strained and indistinct so he waited for Casey's response.

He nodded.

"He's at work. I'm sure he'll be here tomorrow," he replied. He showed Casey the bold red and white calendar which Severide had provided, they'd been marking off the days, and Casey nodded slowly again in understanding. He wanted to ask so many more questions; was anyone hurt? Where's Dawson? Why can't I say anything? Why can't I move? Why is everything so confusing? He didn't understand what had happened to him, he couldn't remember ever being like this before, he wanted to get up, go home, go to work, do everything he would normally do, why couldn't he? He was exhausted and his head ached. He looked over at the large print on the calendar; he saw so many big black crosses marking off the days, had he been here that long? Why was he here? The last thing he could remember was sitting in the common room at the firehouse.

Severide arrived at the hospital the next day, he'd been to the gym and popped over to Casey's house to fetch some personal items; photographs mainly. He discovered that other than a large collection of books Casey seemed to lack the types of knickknacks that he himself had managed to collect over the years that mind jog some sort of happy memories.

The nurse at the station greeted him with a smile. "Doctor Wright says that Matt asked for you yesterday."

"He did?" Severide beamed. "Is he awake now?"

"He was during my rounds a few minutes ago," she replied.

"Hey, Matt," he greeted as he entered Casey's room. It took a few moments for his friend to acknowledge him but when he did he smiled.

Casey watched as Severide made himself comfortable on the chair. "Sev..." he struggled to make it sound more than a breath of air, but Severide looked up expectantly. "Gabs…" he frowned and shook his head, he'd been practicing since he'd woken up and it still didn't sound right when it left his lips.

"It's ok, take your time," Severide stated when he saw the frustration flash across his friends face but Casey didn't try again. "Gabby?" Severide questioned. "She's at the academy today, I'll call her and let her know you're awake… I should have guessed about you two. How long?"  
  
Casey just smiled a little in response.  
  
"I thought you seemed happier than usual recently... but not happy when she told everyone about becoming a firefighter?"

Casey dropped the eye contact he'd been trying his hardest to maintain, he didn't know what Severide was talking about.

"She has been here, she's just busy," Severide explained. He wondered for a moment why Dawson hadn't been by his side much more now he'd found out they were seeing each other. He'd had his suspicions but Shay had kept her lips sealed on the subject and when the accident had happened he hadn't given it anymore thought. "Let's watch a movie, yeah?" he suggested before turning on the TV and flicking through the channels. He found an old movie they'd both seen before.   
  
Casey's mind wondered from the movie, and by the time he found himself concentrating on the screen again he realised he had absolutely no idea what was happening. He soon let himself drift off to sleep.

Dawson was just about to head home when she saw a missed called from Severide, she called him back and was happy to hear that Casey was awake and talking. "How is he?" she asked hurriedly.

 _"_ _He's… he's ok,"_ Severide replied.

"Ok? What? What does that mean? You said he's talking?" she questioned.

 _"_ _Yeah he is, he's just struggling with it, his doctor says he understands everything we're saying, he doesn't seem to think there's any problems with his long term memory, he doesn't remember the accident though,"_ he replied.

"I'll come now, are you there now?" she asked.

 _"_ _No, he's been asleep most the day, which they say is still normal,"_ Severide explained.

"Do they say he's going to improve?" she asked with trepidation.

 _"_ _Yes, no, maybe… There's no real answer but he has improved, so he should improve more. He's going to start seeing a load of different doctors, therapists and stuff, but right now just being awake is exhausting for him. Just go see him, there's only an hour or so left of visiting hours. He wants to see you,"_ he implored.

Dawson had thought now that Casey was awake he'd seem more like himself, but he barely looked like the Casey she knew, like the man she'd been going out with for over a month. She watched him struggle to sit up, she felt pity as she watched him, a feeling she didn't think she'd ever have towards him, she took over and raised the bed slightly for him. He struggled to keep eye contact with her and then continued to struggle to say anything intelligible.

"I'm sorry that this happened," she said.

He looked confused.

"I... I don't know what to say... I'm sorry, Matt."

After a few moments he shook his head, he wanted to tell her that it was ok but he didn't even try, she seemed uncomfortable around him, he didn't understand why. He tried to moved his hand to comfort her but hit the side of the bed instead. She understood his attempt thought and took his hand in hers, careful of the IV cannula, and squeezed it comfortingly, she didn't know what else to do, this wasn't the man she knew. What if this was it for him? How could she have a meaningful relationship with him? She glanced at the time and excused herself, leaving Casey alone wondering when she'd come back because she had never said.

Over the next week Casey began to make progress with his speech therapist. The damage to the Wernicke's area of his brain caused his aphasia. For him it meant he had trouble finding the right word but his ability to speak was transient. At times he could be fully understood despite the odd misplacement of a word or two, and at other times he would struggle to pronounce even one word. It seemed to correlate with his level of fatigue. To his credit it was a deficit that didn't seem to frustrate him, he took it in his stride and continued after each mistake, and after only working with the speech therapist for a short time he was being understood and communicating much more clearly once again.

They found he'd lost the ability to write, Severide had joked by saying his own handwriting was finally better, but the sarcasm had gone straight over Casey's head so he ignored the comment. He struggled to hold the pen, his grip was weak and his movements sluggish, his intention had been to write his name but he looked puzzled to see that he'd only managed a few random lines on the paper. His strength improved with the help of a physical therapy, but his fine motor skills like writing and picking up small objects still eluded him.

He had started sitting up with no support and had been assisted in taking a few steps around his room, but his legs wouldn't cooperate with him and he asked to stop. Once activities became less tiring he would be taken down to the physical therapy suite and begin his physical rehabilitation, the doctors believed his speech would improve and the ability to walk would come back to him, they were less hopeful about his fine motor skills and strength but implemented a rehab programme to increase all of his skills.

Eventually they performed a neuropsychological test to clarify which cognitive abilities were impaired or preserved, it would help to predict how well he would respond to different forms of treatment or rehabilitation. Casey's examination took four hours and the psychologist had barely scratched the surface, but he knew he wouldn't for his first test. Casey was still sleeping most of the time and it was clear before the tests had begun that he struggled to concentrate, his gaze would wonder and he quickly lost track of what was being spoken about so questions had to be repeated more than once. He'd struggled mostly when sequencing like he had during the picture arrangement test when he'd first woken. His lack of executive function was most concerning for everyone around him, but Casey was not fazed by it even though the loss of executive function essentially meant the loss of his independence. Executive function skills were essential to formulate, plan and carry out plans effectively.

Severide arrived at the hospital after his shift had ended, he would usually stay for a few hours each day whilst Casey was awake. He tried to help Casey grab hold of a pen so he could attempt to write, because although what he wrote made little sense, he seemed to enjoy trying. He would try and copy words that had been written at the top of the page in big bold letters, he got closer each time he tried, but each day he tried he would be back at square one and would have to work his way back up.

Casey had just drifted off to sleep, an hour of concentrating had tired him, and Severide was clearing up the pens and paper when one of the nurses walked in to do the usual checks and then to help bathe him. As she went about her work she spoke to Severide, "You're a very good friend."

"If our roles were reversed I know he'd…" Severide began.

"Be with you whenever he was free," she smiled.

He nodded before sighing heavily. "God... he must feel so alone, so confused…"

"Maybe, he doesn't seem unhappy though," she responded.

"I hate to see him getting frustrated, I think he remembers how to do all this stuff but he can't do it now," Severide replied. Casey's lack of strength and coordination frustrated him the most, he didn't mind the inability to write anything intelligible, and his speech had improved enough that he could hold a short conversation if he wasn't tired.

"He's just frustrated because he thinks he should be able to do it, but those connections, those pathways in his brain; they're damaged now," she explained.

"And everyone he's seeing, they're helping to fix them? He's talking much more freely than before so everything else will start improving soon as well." Like everyone else Severide was concerned about his friends new attention deficits, his inability to organise and to remember things he had just been told.

Softly she said, "Once parts of the brain are damaged, when cells have died they don't come back, the brain has to find ways around it, new pathways if you like. The brain has to adjust."

"He's already getting better," he repeated.

"Yeah, but at some point that progress will stop, they can't improve his concentration, they can't magically make him understand how to make plans and carry them out but they will give him ways to adapt, to compensate," she replied.

"He's a firefighter, an officer, he commands men, how do I tell him he can't do that, that things will never be the same," he spoke worriedly, his friends life had completely changed.

"You don't have to, at the moment he's living right here in the present, he's not able to plan or think of consequences to any actions he takes," she replied gently.

"He can't go home? How's he going to look after himself? He's the most independent person I know. Why... why did this happen to him? He's not got a bad bone in his body…" Severide hadn't thought about it before but now he was concerned about who was going to look after him, to help him, for some reason he'd had it in his head that Casey would just get better and then get to go home but what if he never reached that stage in recovery.

"There are specialist facilities that…" she began.

"Care homes?" he scoffed. "No. Sometimes people get better, don't they? Like waking up from ten year long comas and being fine? He'll prove you all wrong, he will."

"Sev..." Casey was looking blearily towards him. "Home?" he questioned. He'd not heard much of the conversation but he could distinctly remember that word. Home meant not here where everyone kept asking him questions, making him say things and constantly testing him.

"Soon," Severide nodded assuredly.

Another week passed by. Shay was sitting on the end of Casey's bed, they were playing snap with the set of cards she had brought for him, or at least that's what it looked like from Severide's viewpoint by the doorway where he stood with Doctor Wright and Christie.

"What are you doing?" Severide asked after he walked into the room and saw the mess of cards on the table. He tried to hide his distress brought on by the conversation he'd just been apart of, Shay recognised Severide's mood immediately, but even if Casey weren't immersed in the card game he wouldn't have picked up on it, he'd been awake for two hours and that was usually the limit of his focus.

"Snap," Shay smiled. "With colours," she added. They were playing with an ordinary card pack. Matching the black and red cards. Severide made a note to get Casey a proper pack of cards for the game.

"Ah!" Severide now understood why Casey had been smiling happily away whilst he had been talking to his sister and doctor. He didn't understand the numbers and the shapes but he understood that red went with red and black went with black, it was an improvement, they would be impressed with it at his next neuro exam; he was sequencing. "Snap with colours is my favourite, can I join?"

Casey looked up but didn't say anything before looking back down at his pile of cards. Shay watched as he froze, he became distracted easily and she had to keep reminding him to pick a card up and look at its colour. His concentration was worse when he was tired so she decided to end the game. "You and Kelly can play later. You should rest now."

Casey fell asleep quickly and Shay stepped out the room with Severide. "What were they saying?"

"Since Hallie was still listed as his emergency contact and his mother's not been in contact, Christie is his next of kin," Severide stated.

"Go on..." Shay urged.

"She says she can't have him at home, not with her kid," he sighed, "He's medically stable, they can't really keep him here forever. Christie's looking at specialist facilities."

"He doesn't need that."

"He can't be on his own, not yet, maybe not ever," he explained sadly.

"Shouldn't he be with family not in some centre? Although he barely interacts with her when she's in the room..."

"He wants to go home, I told him that he would, I didn't say he'd leave this hospital and go somewhere that's like a hospital. He's always hated people looking after him," Severide said.

"He needs…" Shay began.

"He needs to go home. What about the next best thing? He could stay with us," he said as the idea struck him.

"Or he could go home, and one of us can stay with him. With Otis, our place would be pretty crowded with him, too busy for him, he struggles to concentrate when there's more than one of us in the room. He remembers home, it's only right that he gets to go there," she agreed.

Severide nodded. "I'll speak to Christie."


	3. Home

"No," Christie spoke firmly.

Severide frowned. "What? What do you mean no?" He'd not expected that answer.

"I've looked at all these places on the internet. I'm going to visit some, have a look round them, they have around the clock care for him," she explained.

"He doesn't need around the clock care," he stated.

"He can't dress himself, he can't get out of bed," she replied insistently.

Severide shook his head. "He could barely say a word two weeks ago and now he's making sentences, holding conversations." He failed to point out that Casey sometimes got his words jumbled up and that when his brain couldn't quite pinpoint the right word in time it would spit out the closest to it. "And he walked the other day," he countered.

"Assisted by someone, down a row of metal bars. He needs help. I'm his sister…" she asserted.

"His sister who says he can't live with her," he responded incredulously, letting his temper get the better of him.

"Not when he needs all this care. Not when his niece is there, I don't want him to upset her, I don't want him to… do something inappropriate," she replied.

"He's improving every day, he wants to go home, you can't just make this decision for him," he said.

"I'm his sis…" she began.

"His sister? Well, I'm his brother. You'd barely spoken to him for years... where were you when his fiancée died six months ago? You went straight back to college after your dads funeral, he was here with an aunt and uncle he barely knew," he spat out.

"I don't need to give you a reason," she stated.

"He loves you and he loves his mom, I don't know why because she's not even here and you're not letting him make his own decisions," he sighed.

Christie dismissed him. "Go and look at the facilities yourself, they're there to help him, they're nothing like hospitals or anything we see in movies. They're not grim. They look nice."

It had been two weeks since Severide's conversation with Christie. Casey was up and walking, most the time without assistance, his hand eye coordination had improved but it would never be the same as it was. It frustrated him to no end. The worst part was that he knew what he could do before the accident, he remembered how strong and capable he had been and now he couldn't even tie his own shoelaces. He'd began saying no to most of his medications, he'd rather feel pain than the nothing he felt when his mind was clouded with drugs, he said they made him feel nauseous so they obliged and he managed to focus for a little longer.

Severide took him outside, it was a welcome break from the confines of the hospital. He was taken out in a wheelchair but Severide was now sitting on a bench watching him as he took a few steps around the small garden behind the hospital, he was a little unbalanced at times and Severide wanted to run up and grab him but he didn't, he let him have that freedom because tomorrow they were going to the St Francis Acute Rehabilitation Facility.

Christie was at work so once Casey had been discharged from the hospital Severide had driven him to the rehab facility where he would stay indefinitely. Throughout the journey he kept glancing across at Casey, he'd been sullen since he discovered where he was going, Severide didn't want to hide it from him.

"I'm sorry, Casey, your sister thinks… your sister and I… everyone thinks it's for the best, just for now," he said softly, hoping that if Casey knew it was his idea he might understand the decision, but he didn't, all Casey wanted was to go home but everyone else was making decisions for him. "Casey... Matt, it's not forever and this place looks nice." Severide tried to lighten the situation, "They even have a pool."

Casey just gave him one look before staring back out the car window, he'd not said a word all morning.

They were sitting in the reception area, Severide needed to co-sign some papers for Casey as his sister wasn't here, he held onto Casey's bag which contained a few clothes, his medication and some personal items. "Why don't we have a look around together before you get settled in?" Severide suggested knowing that he would soon lose his friends attention if they did nothing. "Come on," he said after Casey didn't reply, he was good at following direct instructions so he stood up ready to follow Severide. "We'll take a look at your room as well. Which room will he be in?" he asked the lady who was sat at the desk.

"Thirteen," she supplied. She looked at Casey, "Your friend can stay with you until your settled, we don't have strict visiting hours."

But Casey just looked confused by the entire situation, he knew he didn't want to be here, but he couldn't quite remember where here was.

Together they wandered around, they looked into the common room, the kitchen area and went into his bedroom, it was blandly decorated like the rest of the place. Casey had looked worried ever since they began seeing the residents, there was a mix of ages but after discovering that he would significantly bring down the age range he decided once again that he really did not want to be here. "Sev..."

"I know," he sighed. There was no need for Casey to explain the problem, he understood, he had understood as soon as he saw some of the staff helping a few of the elderly residents eat, Casey didn't want to be here and he didn't need to be here.

"Sir?" the receptionist questioned as Severide led a bewildered Casey out of the building.

"I'm sorry there's been a mistake," Severide told the receptionist. Back in the car he turned to Casey. "We're going home."

Severide pulled up outside Casey's house, unbuckled his seatbelt and went to unfasten Casey's.

"Case? You ok?"

"I'd fit in there," Casey stated as he stared at the dashboard.

"You're just tired right now, it's been a long morning, we'll go in, you can sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up," Severide reassured him.

But Casey didn't feel any better when he woke up, at first he was confused to find himself in his bedroom and not in the hospital, and then as he sat up he felt incredibly lightheaded.

"Thought I heard you, feel better?" Severide asked from the doorway.

"Hurts..." he slurred, it took a few moments to gather himself each time he woke.

"Head?" Severide questioned.

Casey nodded.

"I'll get you some painkillers." He was still not used to the 'new' Casey admitting to pain so easily, he didn't try to hide his emotions or feelings now, he had no walls or barriers. After giving Casey some pills and a glass of water, he sat next to him on the bed. "Shay's going to come over, I need to go out to get some food and a few other things," he explained, "She's bringing lunch. Do you want to change?"

Casey shook his head.

"I can help," he said.

"No," Casey dismissed.

"Ok," he accepted. "I've made some calls, you're going to be continuing with your physical and speech therapy at the hospital, same staff as before, they know you're staying at home now. With me," he explained, "You don't mind, do you?

"Bed in the spare room that I got for mo…" Casey frowned. "Did my mom visit? Don't remember..."

"Sorry, Casey, we tried to get in touch with her, your sister signed off on all treatments," he admitted

"Oh..." Casey tried not to show how much it hurt but his emotions were like an open book now his head had been injured, there were no walls to hide behind because he couldn't even erect them. "Do I do that now? Or am I too…" He struggled to find the word so he just trailed off. "If something happens... you make the decisions? You know me."

"We'll speak to your doctor, you've got a follow up MRI scan to check for swelling in a couple of days, we'll bring it up then," Severide replied, but truthfully he didn't know if he wanted to be in control of Casey's medical care. The responsibility scared him.

"Again?" Casey hated the MRI scans, the machine felt claustrophobic, it was loud and the room always felt ice cold.

"Remember last time the doctor said there was still some swelling around the wound? That could be what's setting you back when you get your words muddled up," he explained gently, most the time Casey didn't realise his brain substituted one word for a similar one. "You're going to be at the hospital for PT that day as well."

"Am I there every day?" Casey asked unimpressed with the idea, the hospital was too invasive, too cold and sterile.

"Not quite, I'm going to get you a planner from the shop, we'll put all your appointment sin it, thought I'd get some coloured Post-Its too, we can put them all the way round the house, remind you how to…." he began to explain.

"How to do everything?" Because his short term memory hadn't improved at all in the last few weeks, and he still needed reminding of the order he needed to get dressed in. "I'm pathetic."

"No," Severide countered. "Your brain's just a bit mushy," he laughed and Casey joined in. "Your sense of humour is still intact then," he smiled.

Casey laughed again but now it was tainted with confusion, he no longer understood what he was laughing at, it just poured straight out of him because he doesn't have the capacity to stop it.

Before Severide left Shay arrived with lunch but Casey was already fast asleep on the couch.

As Severide wandered around the grocery store he kept questioning his decision to take Casey home, he knew in his heart it was the best idea but after realising how much care Casey actually needed he wasn't so sure. He'd arranged for Casey's therapies to take place at the hospital but his day to day activities would ideally needed to be supervised to start with, Casey had been right when he'd said he needed help with everything. At the hospital they had assessed his ability to perform daily tasks, he hadn't been able to shower without the nurse constantly reminding him what to use and the order to use them in, she'd even had to remind him to rinse the soap suds off after he'd stepped out the shower covered with them. Severide had taken a week's furlough and Shay planned to change her shifts around so she could be with Casey when Severide was working but he wasn't sure how ideal that was, Casey needed structure and a rigid routine.

"He's been asleep the whole time?" Severide asked when he got back.

Shay nodded.

"Should we wake him? He's not eaten since breakfast."

"Probably best to just let him sleep," Shay replied.

"Ok, well I'm gonna start making these labels," he explained as he grabbed one of the bags from the store.

"You're gonna label everything?" Shay questioned. She admired his efforts but she wasn't sure it would be enough.

"No, just remind him what order to do things in," he replied. "Gonna do some for the bathroom and get them laminated."

"I was thinking it might be a good idea to have a look at getting some home help," she suggested.

"Home help? Like a nurse?" he asked.

"I guess," she shrugged. "Just someone who knows about this stuff and can help him feel more independent."

"And how much do you think that's gonna cost?" he asked.

"Insurance might even cover it, that was going to pay for the rehab facility, plus he doesn't have a mortgage, he's getting disability, he has savings and really his only expenditure is gonna be food and fuel. But someone could really help him, take him where he wants go, help with the cleaning, shopping, all his exercises."

"That's what I'm going to do," he replied.

"And how do think Casey will feel about that?" she asked and watched as the realisation swept across Severide's face. "Exactly."

In the next few days Severide and Shay shortlisted several carers to come for a brief interview after getting Casey's approval, because Casey understood that he needed help especially after he'd become annoyed when he discovered Severide labelling his clothes drawers with instructions. Severide had asked him to get out a suitable outfit to go outside in and he'd been at a loss, he didn't know where to start, he'd opened one of the drawers and didn't know what to choose. There was too much choice so in the end he picked out a pair of socks and a jumper.

"That's all you're going to wear?"

Casey looked down at his choice and looked at what he was currently wearing. "I… I don't understand. I know how to do this…" his voice cracked, "Why can't I?"

"I don't really know, Casey, it's too complicated for me, but that's why we're gonna find a way around it," Severide replied. "You're great a following instructions so all you need to do is follow the instructions around the house."

The house was now covered in Post-It notes along with A4 lists of simple, bold and clear easy instructions for Casey to follow. It helped, it gave him back some independence, he could shower on his own although Severide would have to knock on the door to remind him to keep following the instructions as he was so easily distracted by just his own thoughts. Casey had bad days and good days, he still slept most of the time and the doctor had reassured them after his MRI scan that it was normal and it wasn't anything to be worried about. The MRI scan results had caused a bad day, when Casey returned home he refused to do anything other than lie on his bed waiting to sleep, the scanned showed that all the swelling had gone and there was just scar tissue left which in Casey's mind. It meant that this was it, there would be no more improvement, he was stuck like this for the rest of his life, and what life would that be? Physical therapy doesn't hurt but it ached violently in places he never thought he would. He's been walking unassisted for over three weeks now but he was incredibly weak, he couldn't grip much at all and he can't do a single sit or push up despite the weight he'd lost during his stay in hospital, it made him feel even more useless than his need for constant instruction. Was this going to be it for the rest of his life?

He was sitting next to Severide on the couch as the carers were interviewed, he didn't say anything as he found the entire process exhausting. He lost track of who was sitting in front of him, and his attention wandered if Severide's questions are long or if the answers were too long. He unconsciously ran his fingers over his scar, his hair was growing and soon no one would be able to tell he had hung so precariously in between life and death, but the effects were noticed and always would be noticed. When he mixed up his words, when his attention wondered, when he needed help to drink, eat, when he was reminded to shower, brush his teeth, change his clothes.

Severide brought his attention back to the present by touching his arm gently and there was now a woman sat in front of them, she's beautiful and she twirled her hair around a finger as she answered Severide's questions, it's mesmerising but suddenly he realised he didn't want that, he's annoyed, angry even, he got up and left the room.

Severide found him in his room lying on his side on the bed. "You could have just said you didn't like her after she left."

"I'm brain damaged. I can get away with anything." He huffed uncharacteristically as if to prove his words true.

"Well don't start wondering naked in public, I'm fairly certain you'll get locked up in a psych ward," Severide said in jest. Casey had been in a foul mood since they got the MRI results the other day.

"No chance of that, can't unbuckle my own jeans," he stated. Severide was impressed with his quick response and was lost for words for a moment. "I don't want some woman helping me, looking after me, reminding me how to wash, fastening my trousers and shirts. Not when I can't… I'm never going to have a family... can't even look after myself, no one's even going to want to…" he blushed.

"Have sex with you?" Severide questioned, "You've not lost your looks, just…"

"Just a few brain cells?" he quipped.

"But no women, ok, I'm sorry, I should have thought about that," Severide told him.

The next day they found the perfect person. He'd greeted Casey and continued to engage him in his answers, asking him questions, seeing what he wanted, what he liked. None of the others had done that. He'd been a nurse before he decided to go into home care a few years ago, he had experience with brain injuries and most importantly he had spoken to Casey not as if he was a patient but as someone he was intending on being friends with. James Campbell was hired on the spot, he would be with Casey whenever Severide was on shift. He would help Casey with his therapy and assist with his daily routine.

Casey's daily routine was rarely interrupted and hardly ever changed, he liked to have his appointments at the same time. He was currently going to the hospital every other day for an hour of speech therapy followed by an hour of physical therapy. His aphasia had lessened but he still struggled holding long conversations, his lack of concentration meant he was easily distracted and when his attention was brought back to the conversation he didn't have the ability to pick up on what was being said, it had started to frustrate him and when he was frustrated he struggled to get even one word out, so they worked on techniques to keep his concentration from wondering but there had been little improvement for a while now.

Any change in his routine upset him so when Dawson appeared in front of him he was unimpressed. He was already feeling frustrated as he was attempting to play connect four on the iPad Severide had bought for him. He was also anxious because Severide would be back at work tomorrow, he kept reminding him that James was going to arrive in the morning at 7am and would be with him until 9am the next day. It was all written down of course, on both the whiteboard and in Casey's planner but Severide hoped the constant reminders would make it less of a shock in the morning.

"Hi, Matt," she greeted him softly, a little unsure if he even realised she was there. Severide had let her in before going back to the kitchen to make dinner, Casey was currently being extremely picky and only wanted to eat toast as he could make it himself with relative ease. "Matt?" she questioned again, partly wishing Severide wasn't hidden away in the kitchen.

"Hi," he looked up from the iPad.

"What are you doing?" she smiled.

He cast his gaze down at the iPad, it was obvious.

"Right, of course, sorry, is it a good game?"

"Not really," he muttered. Casey struggled the touch the exact spot he wanted on the screen but the premise of the connect four game suited him, there wasn't too much for him to think about, he just had to try and put his four colours next to each other. The iPad was good for his hand eye coordination; it was also good because it only required a light touch and Severide had downloaded several different games that would be useful to work on sequencing and remembering. "How are you?" he asked now he'd completely abandoned the game, he'd forced the words out, he rarely initiated conversations, rarely enquired about others.

"Busy but good," she replied still standing in front of the table. "I've missed you."

"Not gone anywhere," he responded. He hadn't gone anywhere but Dawson could see he had changed, he was different, and it wasn't the fact that his hair looked even blonder, even softer than before or how he seemed to have a permanently bewildered expression across his pale face. He was incredibly expressive whereas before he'd tried to hide his true feelings if he felt they weren't appropriate for him to have, only a select few had ever seen beyond his walls. He was open, before he'd tried his best to deal with everything himself. Everyone around him wanted to protect him, before he had been the protector. Not everything had changed though, he was neat and meticulous before and still was, he tidied up after Severide left dirty plates and mugs out, he'd managed to smash a few in the process when he thought he'd placed items on the worktop but they were far from it. He was polite and funny when the opportunity arose and he was striving to get his independence back. But Dawson couldn't see past Casey's daily struggles, she watched now as he tried his hardest to focus on her and not the noise coming from the kitchen, she'd seen him attempting to touch the correct spot on the iPad, he'd failed twice before finally managing it.

"You look good," she said as she sat down opposite him, "Your hair's growing back."

"Are we still together?" he blurted out. He lacked the forethought to think about the consequences of the things he said or did.

"This is difficult for me, Matt," she explained.

"D… d..." he stammered, it was hard for him to get his words out when his emotions ran high. "Difficult for you?"

She shook her head. "Matt, I didn't… I think things would be easier just as friends, no pressure or anything."

"Because I can't cope with pressure?" he was agitated now.

Severide had been listening in from the kitchen and decided enough was enough. "Dawson, maybe you should go," he suggested as he walked into the dining area.

"I'm sorry, Matt," she stated sincerely before she got up and left.

"She doesn't love me," Casey spoke sullenly.

"No, are you going to be…" he began gently.

"Because I'm useless," Casey wasn't listening to Severide.

Severide sat in front of him, forcing him to focus. "You're not useless, you make a mean slice of toast," he quipped.

It made Casey smile, Severide's casualness and relaxed demeanour. He was less frustrated by his own abilities, or lack of them, when he was around.

 


	4. Life

"Come in," Severide welcomed James into the house. "I've not woken him up yet, he didn't sleep well last night and he doesn't usually get up this early anymore. You've already got his usual schedule and my number, Boden's number, his doc… sorry, you know what you're doing..."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," James replied warmly.

"Yeah, sorry, I've barely left him alone all week," he explained.

"He's got his routine, he'll be ok," James assured him.

Just after 9am Casey appeared and found James sitting at the table with a newspaper. "Sev's at work?" he asked.

"He is. You guys worked together didn't you?" James began making conversation straight away.

He nodded. "Won't be going back."

"No? From what I've been told you weren't walking four weeks ago and now you are," he replied, "You're improving all the time." They'd warned Casey that he would hit a plateau in his improvement, and after so much development over the last few weeks Severide was worried it would hit soon and hit him hard. He'd had lengthy discussions with James expressing his concerns, and insisted that he really wanted him to be a friend for Casey because he'd lost his connection with people. He couldn't hold a lengthy conversation and didn't have the mutual topic of work.

Casey shrugged. "It's breakfast time. I make toast on my own," he insisted.

"I'm not here to take over, just to help if want or need it, we can watch movies all day or do anything you'd like," he smiled. "I'm not here to take over," he repeated.

They ate in silence, James had done nothing as he watched Casey struggle to spread the butter on the toast and watched as not all of the orange juice made it into the glass. "Not really a meal but it's something," he'd smiled broadly after the third trip from the kitchen to the table carrying his breakfast.

Casey dressed after he'd eaten and then sat himself down on the couch. He would spend most of the time alternating between watching the TV, using the iPad and if he was in a good mood he would sit down and attempt to improve on his writing. In between activities he would end up napping in his room.

"If you went out where would you want to go?" James asked him.

"Not the hospital," he shook his head.

"Leaving the house means going to the hospital?" James questioned.

Casey nodded. "He's worried... I think. I'll do something stupid, not stupid… something... something I don't mean to do."

"Embarrassing?" James supplied.

"Yeah," he sighed, "Heard him talking to my sister. Did Kelly tell you she didn't want me to come home? Thought it was what everyone wanted, that everyone thought it was a good idea, that it's what the doctors wanted but it wasn't, it was just her, my own sister and yesterday my girlfriend broke up with me, I remember all that... I do... and I now have no idea what's happening in this TV show," he laughed self-deprecatingly.

"I have no idea what's happening either," James smiled, "Let's rewind it."

Casey settled easily into their new routine, James was with him whenever Severide or Shay were not. They went out together, did the grocery shopping because Casey wanted to be useful for Severide not because he'd been asked to do it, they went out to museums and even to the zoo once, the idea was to keep Casey's brain as stimulated as possible, to help improve on his concentration and his limited executive function skills.

"What are you so happy about?" Severide smiled as he looked up from his newspaper, Casey had walked out of his bedroom with the biggest grin plastered across his face.

"Didn't need this..." He dropped an A4 sheet on top of the newspaper, a move he had planned for his happy announcement.

"Really?" Severide questioned when he saw the list of instructions he'd written out weeks ago for Casey's bedroom.

"Really," he smiled.

"Not so useless after all," Severide replied.

"Nope," he grinned. "So I was thinking that… maybe…" he edged cautiously, "That maybe… if I work on my writing, I know that's a lot and would I really need to be writing anyway, I mean other than reports when do we write stuff…"

"You're rambling," Severide hinted.

"I want to go back to work," he stated.

"Ok," Severide said simply.

"Ok?" he frowned at the acceptance.

"You thought I'd say no? I'm not your keeper," Severide laughed.

"You have moved in with me," he scoffed.

Casey enjoyed going out for lunch with Shay and Severide, it was a very normal affair where he could ignore the fact that he'd spent most of the previous night wide awake because the painkillers had barely dulled the agony that assailed his head. They sat inside, protected from the harsh February weather; his attention flittered between the outside world he could see through the windows, the patterned table cloth, the colourful menu and the conversations taking place between his two friends.

"Case? Have you chosen?" Severide asked.

"What?" he questioned with an air of confusion.

"We're ordering," Severide explained, indicating to the waitress that was now standing by them.

"Oh..." he quickly looked down at the menu, "Erm…"

"He'll have the same as me please, with extra fries," Shay announced and Casey smiled at her.

"Shay?" Severide questioned, he didn't hide his annoyance.

"What?" she shrugged. "Burger's a good choice right, Casey?"

"Burger's a good choice," he repeated, smiling tiredly. It was his preferred choice when they ate out, something he could eat with his hands, not with a knife and fork which he struggled to hold and struggled even more use correctly with his weak grip and decreased coordination.

"He's exhausted, Kelly," she stated.

" _He's_ right here," he spoke up with a small smile. Severide let out a little laugh at Casey's response and Casey looked right at him, even though eye contact was still difficult to maintain especially in such a busy place. "Sorry about the... erm... menu... sorry..." he admitted.

The next day Casey and Severide were sat at the table having just finished dinner. "What is it?" Severide demanded; Casey had been edgy since they returned back from therapy.

"I don't…" Casey hesitated anxiously, "Don't wanna do speech therapy." It makes him feel uncomfortable but most things do.

"Ok," he accepted.

"Ok?" Casey frowned.

"If you feel like you don't need it then ok," Severide replied, "Besides I understand you... most of the time," he teased.

"Thanks," he smiled although there was a slight crease in his brows at Severide's last comment.

The firehouse was buzzing with commotion. Casey was sitting at the table in the common room, having been dropped off by James half an hour ago. Severide had insisted Casey come along for Mouch's birthday celebrations, Casey had been unsure about the idea, he didn't want to go to the firehouse, not now he didn't have the ability to work there, but James had talked him around, it would be good to see his friends and the different environment would be stimulating. He was surrounded by the rest of Truck 81, who'd warmly welcomed him back, in fact the whole of 51 had turned up in the common room when he'd arrived, Severide intervened when he saw Casey pale at all the chatter and noise, he still struggled in busy places, he always would.

Dawson was sitting opposite Casey who was trying his hardest to keep up with the conversations taking place, she noted how bewildered he looked most of the time but he still took everything in his stride, he'd even laugh at himself and his bright wide eyes flickered from one person to the another as he did his best to join in. At times he takes peoples sarcastic comments literally, at others, when he's not tired and when his attention holds steady he'll see the comments for what they really are. But most the time sarcasm goes straight over him, because sometimes it just baffles him, and today he was tired as he'd spent most the night nervously awake awaiting this visit, proving that he didn't only think about just the present, just the now, he did think ahead.

Severide sat down next to Casey, wordlessly passing him a bottle of pop from the fridge. Dawson observed as he attempted to open it but silently Severide took it back from him, there were no words of protest, barely any acknowledgement from Casey. Severide opened the bottle and placed it straight into Casey's open hand, after taking a few sips, keeping his attention on Herrmann's current tale, he placed it on the table where it was picked up by Severide who replaced the lid.

As the conversation died down and the cake was no more the room quietened as most left to get on with their duties. Severide dug out a notebook and pen from Casey's bag to keep him occupied, to keep his brain stimulated now there was no conversation. She'd seen Antonio do it with his kids when they were younger. Casey looked up from the notebook and let the pen drop out of his hand. "It's rude to stare," he exclaimed.

"Matt…" Severide began, trying to hold back the urge to laugh.

"Oh right… inappropriate behaviour..." he shrugged.

"Casey I wasn't…." Dawson began

"I'm not blind, I…" he stated.

"Matt! What's gotten into…" she began with her voice raised.

"Casey!" Tony called across from the other table, he was holding up a pack of cards, "Come on, I hear you're even better at playing now, you might even beat me!"

"Gabby," Severide exasperated after Casey left the room with Tony, "Being here is hard enough for him…"

"He wasn't being rude to anyone else," she replied.

"Well... no one else was staring at him, he thinks your judging him, he thinks you broke up with him because he's not perfect," he stated.

"I never said…" she began.

"No you didn't, you didn't say anything but I can't think of another reason and he can't either. So I think he's allowed to tell you not to stare at him, he's allowed to have feelings, he loved you and he isn't going to push his hurt under a rug like he used to, so don't ever have a go at him for standing up for himself."

Casey was sitting at the squad table and watched mesmerised as the cards were shuffled, and when a door slammed shut he watched as Dawson stormed across the apparatus floor, "I didn't mean to…"

"You and I will never understand the inner workings of a woman's mind," Tony smiled.

"Right..." he deadpanned. "I think I'm always upsetting her," he frowned as he thought.

"Have you done something wrong?" Tony asked, already he knew it was unlikely.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "Don't think so."

"Did Severide tell you she failed her physical last week?" Capp questioned.

"No… You think that's why she's upset?" he asked, now obsessing over finding an answer and hoping he wasn't the cause of Dawson's mood.

"Maybe," Tony replied.

"I've got to go," he said.

He found Dawson in the locker room. "Matt," she greeted him, a little shocked to see him standing in front of her.

"I'd fail my physical too now," he announced. "Wait... that didn't come out right… it sounded better in my head. Most things do."

"Matt things are different now," she explained.

"It's hard for you," he recalled their previous conversation.

"It's just a difficult situation, I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I really wanted it, I wanted to be a firefighter, I wanted there to be an us too but I guess we can't always have what we want," she replied.

He wanted to scream and yell at the unfairness of it all, she was complaining about her life when he was barely living his anymore but he held back, for the first time since the accident he managed to hold back all the thoughts that wanted to come pouring out his mouth in a fit of rage and he simply stated, "Ok." She left him in the locker room where James and Severide soon found him staring at his old locker. "Can we go?"

He was sombre the whole journey back home and went straight to his room.

"You said this morning you wanted breakfast food for dinner? We were going to make pancakes," James stood by the doorframe as he asked.

"I'm tired," he said, dismissing him.

Severide returned home after shift the next day, expecting Casey to be sat down having breakfast. "James?" he questioned.

"I woke up and found him like this, I've not managed to stop him," he explained. Casey was clumsily gathering tools, books, folders and putting them in the middle of the room, the pile was growing larger and larger. "He's adamant that he doesn't need any of this anymore."

"Casey?" Severide tried to get his attention.

"Matt, how about we all go out?" James tried again, "We can go and get breakfast, spend the day out of the house if you want?"

"Need to get rid of everything, of all of this," he stated.

"Ok, Case, that's fine but you need to stop now, you're making a mess," Severide explained.

He did stop, he dropped the book from his hand. "I am a mess," he said sadly.

"Everyone is," Severide quipped. "Come on, let's get out of the house, get some fresh air."

Casey stood up and went to the front door. "Coat," James stated. It was windy and cold outside and Casey was particularly sensitive to cold or hot temperatures now, his body objected to anything it didn't think was normal, it hated the cold and it hated the heat, which they'd discovered after he'd had a hot shower and very nearly fainted from the heat of it.

The next few weeks passed by with little incident, Casey's mood improved once more. The fact that he didn't have do his speech therapy anymore pleased him, but he still remained struggling away during his physical therapy sessions but these had lessoned because James helped him work on his strength at home. He was forming letters when he wrote and had now taken to doodling on anything lying around the house, newspapers, envelopes, the whiteboard. His hand eye coordination was actually improving despite the doctor's outlook, it would never be perfect but improvement was better than nothing.

Boden was sitting with Severide in his office when the squad lieutenant's phone rang. "I need to take this," he said urgently as he saw the caller ID. Boden nodded and watched as Severide's expression went from worry to panic. "What's happened?... Oh God… I'm on my way…"

"Kelly?" Boden questioned.

"It's Casey," he stated, already standing up.

"Go."

"James..." Severide spotted him as soon as he entered the ER. "Where is he? What happened?"

James indicated to a closed off section of the ER. "They're just x-raying his arm."

"He had a seizure?" Severide frowned wondering why Casey was getting an x-ray.

"Hit the coffee table when he fell," James explained.

The curtain was pulled back revealing Casey lying on the hospital bed, a doctor stepped over to James. "He's broken his arm, it's a simple fracture, I've splinted it for now and he's been given some painkillers. He'll be taken up to ortho soon to get it cast on it," the ER doctor explained, "He's in line for a precautionary CT scan too."

"Doctor Wright thought his gaps of attention might be absent seizures, not just him losing his concentration, does this mean they were? He was reluctant to have him stuck here being observed when he wasn't sure and they've not been causing any problems," Severide said, he and James both noticed Casey looking tiredly over to them.

"I'll go," James stated, and he left, leaving Severide going over all the details with the doctor. "How you doing?" he asked Casey.

"Did I do something wrong?" Casey slurred.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"He's upset… or angry… I dunno," Casey muttered as he looked tiredly over towards Severide.

"He's worried that you're hurt, he's not upset or angry at you, I promise," James replied. Casey had trouble judging other people's emotions at the best of time, never mind when he was in a postictal state where he was exhausted, disorientated and nauseous. "Let's have a look at this," he pulled the iPad out the bag that he'd quickly put together before he jumped into the ambulance with Casey. "Do you remember where we got to with this film?" he asked.

After a few moments Casey replied quietly. "Got the... alien."

"Where from?" James tested him.

"Erm…" he thought out aloud, "The plane..." 

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Really?" Casey questioned.

"You're getting good at this, let's watch a bit more whilst we wait for them to sort you out," James said.

Casey was admitted to the observation unit, they had taken a blood and urine sample after casting his arm and before his CT scan, he was still taking the anticonvulsants he'd been prescribed so the grand mal seizure was concerning. They wanted to see if it was a one off or wondered if he had already had several absent seizures since his release from the hospital. In which case Casey's doctor would change the anticonvulsants he was on to find some that worked well for him.

Post traumatic epilepsy. The words rung through Severide's head as he sat next to Casey. The possibility of regular seizures was an all too scary thought. They'd attached him to an EEG monitor, there was no way in telling if he would have another seizure in the next twenty four-hours, and the doctor had said that didn't mean he wouldn't have one again. Severide had sent James home, he'd updated Boden and informed Shay of the situation, after that he'd bribed the nurse and she very reluctantly allowed him to stay overnight, Severide had cited that Casey would be much more cooperative if he were there.

The next day Casey was sat upright in bed playing noughts and crosses with Shay who was sitting cross legged in front of him, he still felt exhausted from the seizure and now that nearly a whole day had passed his body ached like he'd been working out for hours. Severide was watching them, Casey's face lit up so brightly whenever he won and despite his tiredness he was succeeding more often than not. Shay was just about to tap Casey's hand and bring back his attention to their game when she saw the waves on the EEG monitor change. "Kelly!" she exclaimed, he called for the doctor immediately.

Just as the doctor arrived Casey looked back towards Shay. "Did you say something?" he asked since she was looking at him expectantly.

Severide looked towards the doctor who was checking the monitor. "You just had a seizure, Casey," Severide explained.

Casey looked towards the doctor. "You're having absent seizures," the man stated.

"Just lost my concentration, happens all the time," Casey insisted.

"No, it happens some of the time, not all of the time," the doctor replied, "You've been having absent seizures since you left the hospital but because of your concentration difficulties they've been disguised, if you hadn't had the grand mal yesterday it could have gone undiagnosed until something even more serious happened."

"Undiagnosed?" Severide questioned.

"Post traumatic epilepsy isn't uncommon with the type of TBI you suffered, with the areas that were damaged," the doctor explained to Casey, but he wasn't looking at the man.

"Doc, the grand mal seizure?" Severide questioned with concern, "Was that just a one off? He broke his arm…"

"Maybe, maybe not, they may just be a rare occurrence," he replied.

"But you're going to stop them? And stop the absent seizures, right?" Severide asked.

"We can manage them, I'm going to prescribe a different anticonvulsant and we'll want to do some further observation…" the doctor began.

"Can we finish outside?" Severide asked, Casey was on the brink of crying, he didn't need to hear any more of this at this point in time.

"Of course," the doctor replied and they left the room just after Severide gave Shay a knowing look.

"Matt?" Shay sat down at the end of the bed, "It's ok, you'll get some different meds and it'll be ok."

"It's not enough…" Casey began in distress, "It's not enough that I can't do stuff, that I can't... can't... can't pay attention... remember... or… or organise myself without help that… that… that…"

"Shh... Matt, it's ok, just try and relax, just breathe for me, you're in no rush," Shay reassured him, trying to calm him down before he became even more distressed, even more agitated.

"It's not fair," he cried out, "What did I do?"

"Oh, Matt, sweetie, you've not done anything, this isn't your fault, things just happen without a reason." She moved and wrapped her arms around his trembling form. "Shh... Matt, it's ok, it's ok, we'll figure this out," she soothed as his body was wracked with sobs.

Several hours later the three of them arrived at Casey's house.

"Are you hungry?" Severide asked as he led Casey into the living area. He shook his head. "Ok straight to bed then." Severide pulled the covers up over Casey's aching form; he'd closed his eyes as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

"He's going to be ok," Shay reassured him when he stood back from Casey's sleeping body.

"This time," he replied, "And what if this…"

"What if this breaks him?" Shay finished for him.

Severide sighed, "He's been so determined, so positive, what if he can't handle this?"

"You and I both know he'll come out on top, he always does," Shay assured both him and herself.

He shook his head. "He's been doing so well, this isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," Shay stated, "Life isn't fair because he saved a life and this was the outcome."

 


	5. Damaged Goods

Little had changed in the week since Casey's seizure despite how the world felt like it had crumbled around him at the possible diagnosis. They ran more tests in the week that followed confirming that he was now epileptic. The damage that had been done to his brain and the fact that his grand mal seizure occurred months after the accident meant it was very likely to be recurrent. They hadn't noticed the absent seizures because of the deficits resulting from the injury. The doctors were now concerned that further damage could occur in his already damaged brain as the abnormal electrical discharge rampaged through. Despite everything Casey was coping surprisingly well, Shay even thought he was coping a lot better than Severide, whilst Casey had enjoyed creating patterns on the cast that held his broken arm together Severide had his head down researching, Shay had only just managed to persuade him not to remove the offending coffee table or any other possible dangerous objects. Casey was finding it very amusing.

"Your positive attitude is great, Casey… but what if you hit your head next time," Severide stated.

"There might not be a next time, they said I was more likely to have… erm… the other…" he struggled to think of the word.

"Absent seizures," Shay supplied for him from across the room.

"Absent seizures," he repeated.

"But not impossible, Casey," Severide replied, Shay shot him a lot but Casey's positive attitude didn't seem to be waning. "And the pills they have you on aren't working."

"Kelly..." Shay warned.

"It's ok, he's just worried," Casey smiled serenely. "Kelly, I promise not to land near anything other than a pillow," he spoke sincerely.

"You could suffocate on a pillow," he stated.

"Maybe you should stop looking at the internet," Casey shrugged.

Shay snorted with laughter and Casey's grin broadened. "Did you just snort?" Severide mocked.

Every so often Casey goes to the firehouse, he would smile politely when Dawson smiled sadly at him, he's not always great at picking up other people's emotions, he sits and plays with the cards at the squad table, he looks longingly at the door after the new truck lieutenant walks through. Even with the physical therapy sessions Casey's strength and coordination had hit a plateau. He barely recognised himself when he looked in the mirror so he purposely avoided them. Shay had taken him clothes shopping once, it had been a miserable affair, he was a ghost of his previous self; he looked fragile and weak. His hair seemed lighter than before, softer too. He constantly found himself running a hand over the scar, the scar on his head that was hidden away but had changed him more than he wanted to admit.

He was damaged goods now but really he had always been damaged, scared of the anger and rage he believed was pent up inside him just like his mother, petrified he would ever do anything like she had. Scared he would turn into a bully like his father, petrified he'd tear his own future family apart even though he would still defend his parents until the day he died. Right now he was weak just like his father had said all too often; he was too emotional just like his mother had always reminded him. He couldn't control his own body, his own mind, everything was working against him, he was fighting a losing battle, maybe it was best to just give in, give in and let his damaged brain succeed. Maybe he should quit going against the tide and settle for what things were because there was no knowing if anything else would improve so why use his energy fighting when he could simply give up, quit physical therapy, quit all the cognitive stimulation. He wasn't living either way. He was just existing.

"If you could go back and change something, would you?" he asked James one afternoon as they sat together.

"Are you talking about the accident?" James asked. It would be a normal feeling to want to go back and stop the events that drastically changed his life.

"No, anything. Would you go back and change something? Act a different way?" he asked.

"I think everyone with hindsight into their future would want to change something," James replied.

"What would you change?" he questioned.

James smiled thoughtfully. "I would have asked Sally Barker to the prom because I could have survived a little embarrassment if she had said no, but if she had said yes? I think I would have had a much better prom night."

"Oh," he sighed.

James smiled at him. "You wanted something more profound, more significant?"

"Don't know," he sighed again, "I mean, I know what I'm talking about but I… I... I just wonder if I should have ever done things differently."

"We all think we should have done things differently, it's not an unusual thought or feeling," James replied.

"I was an accident, the result of a drunken night, and I nearly didn't make it when I was born," he explained. "It's strange how precarious life and death is… Why didn't I just die?" his voice cracked, "I shouldn't have woken up from that coma."

James frowned, "Who said that?"

"It was after that... that test, I was happy because he said he was impressed… but then he added – because by rights I shouldn't have woken up – but don't think I understood him really, remember what he said but that's it… it... maybe still don't understand, don't know… don't know a lot of things now." He was unsure of himself, he lacked confidence and self-assurance. He didn't trust himself, he didn't trust what he heard or said. At times he had lacked confidence in the past but he had always been able to trust himself.

When Casey doesn't understand what someone has said, a sentence, a single word, he fidgets. Severide and James will repeat themselves, give him another chance, Severide would do it all day if it helped, if Casey didn't become embarrassed, but it rarely helped. Severide would have to watch as Casey tried to hide his frustration because sometimes everything became too much for him. He would meltdown. He would clench his fists, slam things, throw things until he would breakdown and sob. It had happened three times in the last month alone and Severide feared it was now becoming a regular occurrence. He had always been calm under pressure but now he crumpled with it, any minor quick decisions, raised voices, loud noises, all had him fluster and panic. He would grow vacant or angry, forget his words or articulate cold, hurtful ones.

Casey's sombre mood stuck with him for days, Severide was at a loss until James suggested a trip away from home, something normal, time without physical therapy or cognitive stimulation exercises and games. At the suggestion Casey's mood flipped like a switch, he was ecstatic, he enthusiastically told James the next day who then helped him make a list of things they should pack, a helpful exercise although Casey did none of the writing.

The good mood was broken midday on a Tuesday. Severide stepped out the shower, dried and changed before emerging from the bathroom to the distinct smell of smoke. "Casey?" he called, he had no idea where he was. He rushed to the kitchen to find smoke pouring out of the oven. Opening it he found two very burnt burgers, the smoke set the fire alarm off as the door was opened. He was just about to call Casey again when he spotted him walk into the kitchen. "What have you done? I told you not to use this on your own!"

"I…I..." Casey stuttered, the noise of the fire alarm was grating.

"You shouldn't use this, it's dangerous," Severide stated as he turned off the fire alarm.

"I…" Casey began again but he couldn't get his words out. he had only wanted to make lunch for the two of them, like he used to, like Severide made lunch for him.

"You've got to be careful, if things are left in here too long…" Severide began but Casey turned away. "Matt?"

Casey didn't know what to do, he'd made a mistake. He admonished himself; he should have thought ahead, he shouldn't have left the food in for so long, he should have remembered. He turned away and left through the front door leaving Severide calling after him.

Quickly Severide opened the kitchen windows to let the smoke out before he went after Casey, he sighed with relief when he didn't have to go far. Casey was sitting on the steps to the house so Severide joined him.  
  
"Didn't know where to go," Casey said quietly.

"You just worried me, ok? I shouldn't have yelled," Severide admitted.

Casey shook his head. "Made a mistake, sorry, should have remembered."

"You were just trying to help," Severide responded.

"Are we still going to the lake?" he asked.

"Of course we are," Severide smiled. He wanted this trip away from the city as much as Casey did, the break would be good for them all, he'd had some tough shifts at work recently and had little chance to talk to anyone as he didn't want to bring work up in front of Casey. Even when he was with Shay he couldn't as Casey was with them, so the break would do them all some good. He and Shay could get away from work for a few days and Casey could get away from the house and all of his hospital appointments.

"Really?" he questioned.

Severide frowned. "Is that why you left the house? You thought we wouldn't go on our trip because…"

"Made a mistake," he said.

"We all make mistakes," Severide stated. "Come on, let's go back inside."

A few days later Casey was sitting with James when he'd decided he'd had enough. "No!" he yelled in frustration at the cards on the table.

"Matt..." James tried to calm him.

He shook his head. "No..."

"Matt, we can't do the same exercise all the time. You can do this one," James encouraged.

"I can't! I can't..." he repeated angrily.

"Try again," James said calmly and Casey attempted again and that time he succeeded. He was ecstatic but it only lasted a moment because he failed once again the next time around. Casey's random with his choices, he uses no logic, it's only by luck that he achieves the point of the game because he has no foresight and can't plan his moves, it's sad to watch until his face lights up in delight as he manages to flip over two cards with matching farm animals pictured. It's a kids game but then most of the activities he does for his rehab are. Children also lack foresight and don't always understand consequence, they're not always logical just like Casey's damaged brain but there has still been improvement, still hope for more.

"Sev?" Casey called from his bedroom the next day. Severide entered to find him standing in an unfastened shirt and boxers he began to fasten the buttons for him. "I want to look neat, is this neat?" He had an evaluation with the neuropsychologist today to examine any improvements or further deficits, to give him a score up to a hundred. He was worried about the evaluation; everyone had seemed disappointed last time. He wanted to do well, he wanted to have improved, wasn't that thinking ahead?

The man explained things systematically so Casey understands the tests. Every time Casey wrote a word down he panicked when he saw that the letters were jumbled up or they aren't letters at all. He got annoyed that the man used the same picture arrangement test he'd been unable to do before but this time he does explain each picture, just like he did with James at home, he stared blankly when he was supposed to be putting them in order though. The man tells him not to worry, that he's doing just fine, but Casey can't push his anxious feelings away. He did well with the Token Test, he understood it, it felt easy and repetitive but by the time he'd got to the end he was bored of it and his attention began to wonder. He hated the motor speed and function section of the evaluation because he was fully aware of his shortfalls, unlike most of executive function section where he just continued his attempts without much care.

Less than half way through the evaluation Casey announced, "I need the bathroom." He wanted a break from all the poking and prodding of his brain, he was exhausted, they had given him a few short breaks throughout the morning but he just wanted to get out of there, he wanted it all to stop. He was shown where the bathroom was and he was left outside the door. He didn't even look around before walking straight down the corridor away from the evaluation room.

He remembered Severide telling him if he finished earlier than 6pm he should call him, Severide had also give him a note with instructions as he was dropped off in the reception area. He pulled out his phone, found his recent contacts and rang him.   
  
The phone didn't ring for long before Severide picked up.  
  
_"_ _Hey, are you finished?"_ he asked.  
  
Casey nodded.  
  
 _"_ _Did you just nod?"_

"Oh sorry, yes I've finished, can I go home?" he replied hopefully.

 _"_ _Ok, are you where I left you?"_ Severide asked.

"Oh..." He looked around himself, he had walked away from the bathroom without paying attention to his surroundings. "… Erm... I…"

 _"Should I meet you at the back entrance? By the parking lot, Casey,"_ Severide said.

"Ok," he replied before hanging up and slipping the phone back into his pocket. His heart started to pound in his chest, he had no idea where in the hospital he was.

He was looking at the list of departments and floor numbers by the elevator when a friendly voice asked, "You all right, love?"

"Erm…" he hesitated, his responses weren't the quickest when he was spoken to unexpectedly. "I'm lost," he stated.

She smiled warmly. "Don't worry, where are you going?"

"Back entrance, by the parking lot," he explained, repeating Severide's words.

Severide found Casey standing by the sliding doors at the entrance. "How was it?" he asked.  
  
Casey just shrugged.  
  
"Do you remember if they said anything after, or are they going to call us about it?"

"Erm… call I think," he lied; he was terrible at lying and it showed.

Severide frowned. "You think?

"Sorry..." he replied.

"Ok, let's get you home then," Severide told him but just after they left through the doors his phone rang, he answered and listened as Casey watched him anxiously, he sighed as he ended the call and put the phone away. "Casey..." he began cautiously, "You walked out?"

Casey's brain protested in panic as he opened his lips and he was reduced to silence. He wanted to explain how horrible the evaluation was, how hard it had been.

"Why did you walk out?" Severide asked calmly.

"Please..." He'd found his words but they almost exploded out of him, he couldn't go back. "Please I... I... I can't, I can't do it, please... please don't take me back..." he started to edge backwards away from Severide.

"Casey…" Severide tried again but he's interrupted by Casey's distress.

"Please... please..." he repeated, "Please don't send me back there."

"Casey!" Severide yelled as he nearly walked backwards off the sidewalk into a moving car. "Casey!"   
  
Severide grabbed his upper arm hard to stop him, his grip is hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises on his thin arm. Casey struggled against his grip but it was useless and Severide pulled him back inside.  
  
"Sit down!" he shouted, frustrated even though he knew it's not really Casey's fault. "Damnit Matt!" he took a deep breath and knelt in front of him. "I shouldn't have dragged you back in here but you've got to listen to me, I need you to focus, concentrate on me... Shh… Matt, it's ok, just… I need you to stop and calm down."

"…Please… please..." Casey continued. He was trembling so Severide took his hands in an attempt to ground him

"Casey you've got to calm down, please Matt," he implored but Casey couldn't, he couldn't control his emotions, he couldn't control his panic. "Casey, please, you're making a scene, do you know what happens when you make a scene in a hospital? After you've just left half way through an evaluation?"

But he didn't know, he couldn't read between the lines. "Please don't make me go back there," Casey pleaded, "I was doing so badly…"

"You were scared of failing so you decided to leave half way through?" Severide frowned.

"I… I... please don't make me go..."

"Look, Matt, we'll go together, ok? I'll stay with you," he nodded reassuringly.

Back in the evaluation room Casey was sitting silently, his panic had exhausted him. Severide was now talking with the neuropsychologist and another doctor neither of them recognised.

"… It's a serious issue, he can't be trusted be to be left on his own, he could have gone anywhere..." the doctor spoke urgently.

"But he didn't, he just wanted to go home," Severide explained.

"And caused a commotion at the entrance when he realised he wasn't going to get what he wanted, he lacks the…" the doctor began.

"He doesn't lack anything, he was scared, worried that he was going to fail these tests," Severide countered.

"So his solution was to leave, it may not be a good idea to have him at home, somewhere insecure," the neuropsychologist added.

"He only left because he wanted to go _home_ ," Severide stated, he hated how they spoke as if Casey wasn't even in the room.

"And what happens if he doesn't want to be at home? He's just going to leave, and where is he going to go? He can't look after himself," the doctor responded.

"What are you trying to say?" Severide questioned them and he looked back to Casey who had said nothing throughout, hardly aware of what was taking place around him. "We're going to go home, his head isn't in the right place to finish your tests."

"His head's not in the right place to go home, he's unpredictable," the man explained.

"What?" Severide questioned incredulously, "Because he decided to leave?"

"He's not in a fit state to…" the doctor tried.

"So you want to keep him here?" Severide frowned.

The doctor sighed. "He needs obser…"

"He doesn't, he just needs to go home," Severide insisted.

"You can take him," the neuropsychologist stated. "But he needs to come and see me, I can fit him in tomorrow afternoon."

Casey said nothing until they arrived home. "We're not going to the lake now?"

"Why do you ask that?" Severide questioned, it had only been a few days since he'd last asked.

"Made another mistake," he replied sullenly, "Everyone's... angry?"

"No ones angry, Matt, and we are going to the lake," Severide explained.

"Gabby would like it... would have liked it…" he commented.

"You'll get to go on a trip with a girlfriend in the future, just not this weekend," Severide smiled reassuringly.

"Maybe," Casey shrugged.

The weekend trip to the lake was a success all round, Casey had been sullen because of the forced appointment with the neuropsychologist he had attended the day before they'd left but as soon as he stepped out of the car and into the fresh air his mood changed, he felt freer. The neuropsychologist had made him feel miserable, he hated being asked why he did things, why he thought the way he did, it was too invasive, he didn't know what the correct answers were even though there was no wrong or right. The three of them stayed in Benny Severide's cabin, it was rustic, it was cold but there was plenty of fire wood. The four days they spent there ended too quickly for Casey's liking, going home meant trips to the hospital, but it did also mean seeing James who he'd become good friends with, even though at the back of his mind he wondered if that was only because he was paying him.

Life returned back to normal very swiftly when they returned home, but all of them were grateful for the break. Casey was unusually enthusiastic in his first physical therapy session after they got back and after the session even said yes to James when he had suggested they get something to eat in nearby diner, when usually he would want to go straight home. Severide's first shift back was quiet and Shay's was as busy as usual but not as hectic as the weeks before. Shay had also persuaded Severide to take a few nights off and have James stay over so they could go out and when Casey showed no objection to the idea, in fact he went along with Shay in persuading him, he agreed to it and enjoyed some time getting back to his usual activities.

Casey was happily strolling along reading off the shopping list as they walked up and down the grocery store aisles. They were shopping for both their house and Shay's apartment. Shay and Otis were now looking for another roommate as Severide would officially be living with Casey since it was where he spent all of his time when he wasn't on shift. It made sense to make it official and move the rest of his things out of the apartment.

"Wrong cart, Casey," Shay said simply as he placed a bag of popcorn into her trolley.

"Sorry," he replied. He took it out and put them in the cart Severide was pushing along.

"Can you get some cookies from the end of the aisle," Severide asked him.

Casey frowned as he looked down at the list. "They're not on here."

"I know, but as we went past them I decided I wanted some," he replied. He knew Casey didn't like to stray from their lists, he was testing him, making him think. "Not everything has to be on the list," he reminded him.

"Right…" Casey replied a little uncertainly. "What cookies?"

"Any," he answered. "You choose."

"It's a lot of choice," Shay said as she and Severide watched Casey stand in front of the rows and rows of cookies. "It's been five minutes, Kelly," she exasperated, "Should we…"

"Nope," Severide smiled as he saw Casey finally grab a packet and walked back towards them, putting the packet in the cart.

They were just walking down one of the freezer aisles when Severide and Shay heard a sharp intake of breath and a sickening thud from behind them. They turned around in horror to see Casey on the floor. His muscles were contracting, he was convulsing violently but it was over quickly and Shay was quickly kneeling down over him trying to rouse him, someone nearby informed them that they'd called an ambulance and it was on its way.

"Matt come on, open your eyes for me," Shay was insistent and eventually his eyes flickered open, glazed and unfocused.

By the time the ambulance had arrived Casey's awareness had grown, he couldn't recall why he was lying on the floor and he was confused by his surroundings but he didn't become distressed as he could see Shay and Severide, he felt weak all over, his whole body ached and his cheeks flushed red when he realised his trousers were wet.

The paramedics took him to the ambulance and checked his vitals. "His vitals are fine," Shay confirmed for Severide who was looking into the back of the rig with worry. "We can take him home?" She knew the protocol; they didn't have to take him in unless his seizure was longer than five minutes.

"Yeah, unless you want him to get checked out?" the paramedic replied.

"Home..." Casey muttered tiredly.

"Ok, someone just needs to sign here to show he was treated on…" the paramedic pulled out the electronic logbook.

"I know." Shay smiled and took the logbook from his hands.

Once at home Casey went straight to bed, it took a few hours for the drowsiness and confusion to dissipate and for days after the incident his whole body was sore and he ached as he walked around, so he preferred to remain in bed. In fact the whole incident had put him off going out in public, he dreaded the thought of it happening again, he couldn't remember the first time he'd had a seizure but he could remember this one and the public setting of it only made it worse. Everything had gone blank, one moment he'd been walking behind Shay and Severide and the next he knew nothing, he couldn't say anything, he couldn't think and suddenly he had felt his eyes roll up into his head, they started jerking forcefully to the right and then his whole body jerked. He had no control, he'd tried to speak, to emit some sort of sound but there was nothing but spittle, his throat was seizing, he could barely breathe, he'd lost complete control and could only wait for everything to stop as he watched Shay and Severide from the very corner of his eyes. The experience had been petrifying, to lose all control, he wished he couldn't remember it in full vivid technicolour. Nothing anyone could say to him would get him out the house, it was hard enough to get him out of his bedroom and into the rest of the living area, they only hoped another change in medication would work, his doctor was positive that it would after explaining that sometimes it can take a few attempts before finding the correct one and the right dosage for Casey because everyone was different.


	6. Control

"Casey, it's been three weeks," Severide implored. In those three weeks Casey had only left the house to go to his appointments, which if given a choice he would have avoided. He had finally had the cast on his left arm removed, leaving it even weaker than before, and he'd been forced into attending even more sessions with the neuropsychologist who barely managed to get any words out of him. After each session he would remain in his self-imposed silence for hours. Severide allowed the act of defiance, he understood it, if he could stop the sessions he would as they didn't seem to be doing any good, despite the doctor's insistence that Casey carried on with them.

"I said I'm not going," he replied adamantly.

"Matt…" Severide began.

He was agitated now. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"I get that you're scared…" Severide said softly.

"I'm not scared," he responded. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Matt..." Severide pleaded. "They wanted to keep you at the hospital weeks ago, I persuaded them not to, but if you…"

"But if I don't want to go shopping then what?" he questioned petulantly. "Then they'll what? Lock me up in a psych. I don't think so. You can't threaten. I'm not out." His responses were quick and eloquent but he had only been awake for an hour after being asleep for thirteen hours, his brain reacted quickly and allowed him to get out all the words he wanted, he never noticed that he missed a few, he didn't care unless it was pointed out to him and Severide wouldn't do that.

"No, but you could get locked up in a rehab centre, you nearly did. If I didn't stop them you'd be there right now," Severide stated.

"But I… but I thought you wanted to live here…" he said quietly, hesitantly.

"What?" Severide didn't know that Casey's been questioning his presence since the psychologist brought his name up in one of their sessions, he didn't know that in his lucid moments Casey felt like a burden.

"If you don't want to be here I don't mind," he lied. His mood had once again flipped like a switch; he'd gone from agitated and borderline aggressive to meek and submissive in record time.

"Casey, I'm not paying rent, you let me watch whatever I want on the TV, I don't mind being here," Severide replied.

"You have to do so much," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "I can't button my own pants, fasten my belt… open any bottles… remember what pills I'm meant to take and when… I wake up and don't know what day it is… I want to say that I wish it never happened but that won't change anything, I'm useless on my own."

"You are not useless on your own and besides you're getting better with the pills, it's not your fault they keep changing at the moment," Severide replied.

"I wanted to storm off into my room... like a teenager," he shrugged miserably. "But I'd probably walk straight into the door frame; not the dramatic effect I was looking for… Can't even walk in straight lines…" he sighed.

"But you're not dead, you're here; alive," Severide explained insistently.

"But I'm not dead?" he frowned as if to say; is that the best answer you can come up with? "Might as well be."

"Yeah," Severide agreed. "You might as well be if you decide you want to be stuck in this house and not go out and live a life then fine, but if you want to go out then I will go with you, just tell me where!"

"I can't go out," he swore.

"Why?!" Severide demanded. "Because you're scared? You're scared you're…"

"Do you know what it's like to lose complete control?!" he yelled. "I don't have control of my body most the time, I go to grab something and... and... and it turns out I was nowhere near it, I think I've written words but... but I look again and it's just random lines, I can't say what I want, the words are mixed up or... or... or there's nothing at all. I lost complete control, I was there, I... I... I could see, but I couldn't do... do anything!"

"Matt…" Severide began softly.

He shook his head. "I don't have any control. I'm crying right now and I don't want to be; I wouldn't have cried before…"

"No, you wouldn't have. Before you would have bottled everything up so tight that I was scared you would explode, scared that one day you'd just not turn up at work because everything had got too much," Severide replied.

"I was in control," he said stubbornly.

"No one can be in control of everything, you know that really," Severide said softly.

"What am I meant to do now?" he asked, "I had a job, a career, a business… I had a purpose, now what?"

"Now you keep me entertained because I actually quite like these little games and exercises we do together," Severide smiled, "And you can keep working at it because you have improved, so you keep at it because one day you might get one of those things back."

"What if this is it?" he questioned sadly.

"Then it is," Severide shrugged, "And I'll be here with you because I want to be, not because I have to be."

"Because you want to be? You didn't want to be when…" he began.

"Don't," Severide warned. "Don't bring it up."

Casey frowned, he had little self control now. "I needed…"

Severide shook his head/ "Don't. We both struggled and we both should have done things differently."

At the firehouse the next day Severide and Shay were standing sombrely in the corridor, Severide had not managed to change Casey's mind despite their conversations. "What's James said?" Shay asked.

"We can't force him," he shrugged. His cell phone pinged and he looked at the message on the screen. "Damnit..." he muttered.

"Casey?" Shay questioned.

"... Does not want to go to his PT session today. James says he's also refused breakfast," he sighed, "I don't know if we're doing the right thing keeping him at…"

"Lieutenant," Capp called as he walked up the two of them, "No Casey? He's not been here for a while."

"No, he's…" Severide trailed off. "What's that?" he asked when he saw the wrapped box.

"For Casey," Capp explained.

"It's not his birthday," he frowned.

"Figured he might be getting bored with cards and the iPad," Capp replied and he handed the box to him. "It's a jigsaw, the pieces aren't too small," he smiled, "My nan likes them."

"Thanks." He took the box.

"Tell him we miss him, he needs to come round again or come to Molly's," Capp said before leaving them.

Severide looked at Shay and frowned. "He's not mentioned Molly's… Do you think he'd want to go?"

"And drink what? Water or juice? It's loud, busy… even chaotic at times. It'll be disorientating," Shay explained.

"Not at lunchtime," he replied.

A few days later Severide and Casey were sitting in a nearly deserted Molly's, the bar had only been open for an hour. Severide had asked Herrmann to get in some non-alcoholic beer so Casey had a bottle of it whilst Severide was sitting with half a pint, he wasn't driving but he didn't want to have much in front of Casey. They had walked to the bar, it had taken longer than expected but it had been good for Casey. However, they weren't going to walk back, it would be too tiring for Casey who'd not left the house, except for hospital trips, for over a month in fear of having a seizure in public. Severide, James and his doctor had persuaded him by telling him that the new medication had reduced the absent seizures so it was extremely unlikely the grand mal seizures would reoccur, it was a white lie, beneficial for his mental health, he didn't need to know that he may still have one.

"Can I have some?" Casey asked as he looked at Severide's glass.

"You've got your own," he replied before calling over to Herrmann, "Can we have some chips?"

"It's not the same."

"You can't, not with…" Severide began.

"Just a sip," he smiled brightly.

"Fine," he conceded. "One sip but if it makes you feel nauseous because of all the meds, or gives you a migraine it's your own fault."

Casey took a sip and swallowed it down. "See, I'm fine," he grinned and as it faded he continued, "I just want to do normal stuff."

"This is normal stuff," Severide stated as Herrmann placed a bowl of chips in front of the pair of them.

Casey looked around the bar. "There's two other people here," he frowned, "We should have come later, that would be normal."

Severide took a chip and frowned. "Casey, you'd…"

"Get a headache, I know, get confused because everyone was talking, I know," he sighed. Severide didn't want to put a downer on the whole outing, he knew Casey understood his limitations and maybe that was the worst part, that he understood what he used to be able to do and now couldn't.

The next day Casey was sitting alone in the middle of the couch. "Anything else need doing today?" James smiled as he closed the washing machine door, he'd just stripped his bed covers, a task Casey couldn't do easily by himself.  
  
Casey shook his head.   
  
"Not talking much today? You're tired?"

"Didn't sleep well," Casey replied honestly.

"No?" James questioned, "Bad dreams?"

"No just… I dunno… just couldn't stop thinking," he shrugged, unsure of his answer.

"Your doctor has prescribed you sleeping pills for a reason," James responded.

He shook his head. "They make everything slow, I'm already slow enough."

"You need to give yourself a chance, you're not going to improve if you're hardly getting any sleep," James explained.

"Not gonna improve either way," he said.

"You think this is it?" James questioned.

"I guess," he shrugged. "I don't mind, not really. I'm not going to make some miraculous recovery so why waste time fighting for that, fighting for a little bit of improvement? I can talk, walk, think... sometimes..." he smiled openly. "It could have been worse."

"Ok," James said.

"Ok?" he frowned. "You're not going to persuade me by saying I could go back to work? That's what Kelly did... I think... it is what I wanted, what I want… But I don't want to kid myself, lie to myself. I saw the way the doctor looked at me when I told him I wanted to work, that that was my aim, I may be stupid but I'm not blind," he scoffed self-deprecatingly.

"You know you're not stupid," James smiled.

"No? I can't count... write... tie my own shoe laces..." he shrugged.

James shrugged. "I don't know the alphabet."

He laughed a little. "Really?"

"Get all muddled up in the middle unless I really really concentrate on it," James smiled

James watched as Casey sat mouthing letters, he smiled. "The m and n bit?"

"Yup," he replied.

"Me too… I have an excuse though," Casey grinned.

Casey became distracted by the heavy rain battering the ground outside. "Do you want to go out today?" James asked. "And when I say out, I mean somewhere indoors, that's warm, where we won't get wet," he smiled.

"No," he shook his head

"Let's keep going at that jigsaw puzzle then," James said, indicating the unfinished puzzle on the coffee table in front of Casey.

Two days passed and Severide persuaded Casey out of the house once again, to the firehouse this time. He spent most of the day seemingly attached to Severide's side, he sat with him in the common room, at the squad table and sat cross legged on the bed whilst he did his paperwork in his quarters. Casey didn't want to be on his own or with anyone else in case he had a seizure. Severide understood his fear even though all evidence led his doctors to believe the new combination of medication was working since now the absent seizures were less and less frequent, and they insisted the grand mal seizures should have stopped entirely or at most be an extremely rare occurrence. He understood the lack of control Casey now had over his everyday life, his daily existence was fraught with limitations, and he understood the fear his friend felt at losing the little control he did have in such a public place, he wondered if he'd ever go to the grocery store again but right now Severide was just happy he was out of the house and following him around the firehouse.

Severide went out on one call, a car crash, and Casey remained in his quarters unable to go and find Shay as 61 had been dispatched as well. Herrmann found him sat on the edge of Severide's bed. "Lieutenant," he greeted him out of habit. "There's dinner if you want it?"

"Kelly?" Casey questioned tiredly, it had been a long day filled with anxious thoughts.

"They're not back yet," he replied. "But they will be soon," he explained simply.

"When?" Casey asked. He liked exact times; his brain didn't easily compute soon, near, maybe; he needed facts and schedules.

"I'm not sure. You remember how every call is different," Herrmann explained, hoping to rid the worried expression from his former lieutenant's face. He looked so young sat on the edge of the bed with his bright eyes and longer blond hair.

"Ok," he nodded acceptingly. He'd been working with the neuropsychologist to help him understand and accept that not everything can be planned and scheduled, that there were extenuating circumstances.

"Now, are you hungry?" Herrmann smiled.  
  
Casey nodded.  
  
"Come on then, let's grab something to eat."

Herrmann watched as Casey unconsciously scratched at his arm out of anxiousness once he was sat down at the table in the common room, a habit he'd noticed before the accident, he watched from the corner of his eyes as Casey picked at the food and carefully picked up his glass of water and brought it to his lips. He spoke enthusiastically to the rest of the table, drawing all their attention to make Casey feel at ease, Severide had warned him and the others that he'd been having a tough time over the last month, he didn't tell them the reasons, Casey didn't want anyone to know about his seizures so Severide allowed him that privacy, allowed him that control.

Severide returned back from their call to find Casey sitting with Herrmann and Mouch watching the Discovery Channel, there was a notebook on his lap where he'd been attempting to write but had only produced some unreadable scrawls. He leant down in front of him to get his attention. "I've messaged James, he'll be here in less than an hour."

"Stay here," Casey said simply, eyes a little unfocused.

Severide shook his head. "No, you need to go home, sleep in your own bed." Casey's attention turned back to the TV and Severide looked to Herrmann and Mouch. "Has he eaten?" he asked them quietly.

They nodded. "Half a plate of tuna bake," Herrmann supplied.   
  
Severide was glad Casey hadn't just stayed in his quarters whilst he was out on the call, and happy that he didn't want to go home even though he wasn't going to allow him to stay, he needed his medication and his own bed as he found it difficult enough to switch off and sleep in his own room, never mind in a busy firehouse. Severide and James write things down for Casey because it's easier to understand when he's tired, because he's not been sleeping well. He can't seem to shut down at the moment, his head feels full, it's buzzing. He stumbles over his words when he's tired, he can barely express himself, he either ploughs on regardless or becomes angry and agitated in frustration and becomes silent, refusing to utter a word. James arrived at the firehouse to find Casey silent, he understood what had happened and took Casey's arm and led him out to the car, Casey's body fails him when he's tired, it isn't just his speech that suffers, it's his balance and ability to comprehend so he happily allows James to help him home. Once home James helped him change, made sure he took his pills with a glass of water and helped him into bed, where he fell asleep immediately thanks to the little blue pills James had added into his usual medication.

Over the next few weeks Casey grew more and more confident and began getting back to his usual activities, trips out to the park, the lake, the zoo, all aimed at stimulating his cognitive function. He refused to go to any outpatient group meetings after briefly attending one support group with James, he'd hated it, he'd hated sitting around in a circle on an uncomfortable plastic chair, he'd hated how he'd been asked to introduce himself, he'd hated how everyone asked him questions and spoke to him as if they knew him, as if they cared when really they were all strangers grasping for a life they used to have. He had walked out, leaving James to apologise before quickly following him out the door. James and Severide never suggested the support group again. Casey had enough reminders of the effects of his injury, he didn't want to be sat in a room talking about how he felt when he was already being forced to see the neuropsychologist once a week.

Severide had warned James not to put the news on the TV, he'd messaged him on his way to a horrendous call; a terrorist attack. He'd said to stay in the house, not to tell him that Severide and the others were in danger, not to tell him of the explosion, and not to tell him of the hundreds of casualties. Severide wanted to protect Casey.

Everyone had said Casey's ability to be empathetic had been destroyed when the shards of skull had ripped through parts of his brain but Severide didn't believe that at all, especially when he returned home the morning after the terrorist attack. "What's wrong?" Casey asked immediately upon seeing his friends face.

Severide placed a hand on his shoulder, looked sadly towards James who began to tidy up the game the two of them had been playing. "Wanna watch cartoons?" Severide asked after a moment.

"Ok," he replied, James left the two of them on the couch. Casey kept glancing at Severide, he was different, he was worried, no, he was upset. "Has something bad happened?" he asked simplistically.

"No," Severide answered.

Casey frowned. "You're lying?" he questioned uncertainly.

"I'm not lying," Severide responded.

"Ok," he turned his attention back to the TV but only moments later he asked, "Is Shay coming today? Can't remember when but she said she'd bring a new jigsaw," he smiled.

"Not today, she's busy," Severide replied.

"When?" he asked.

"In a few days maybe." Severide didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. He didn't want to tell him that she'd got hurt, not when she would be fine in a few days.

"Maybe?" He liked things to be clear cut, yes or no, ambiguity was confusing.

"Drop it, Casey," Severide stated suddenly.

Casey frowned, he knew he could get obsessive but he really didn't think he'd done anything wrong which meant something else must be the matter. "You're hiding something," he said. "I'm not fragile, I'm not going to break," he continued, but he was wrong, he was fragile and so easily breakable, "Please?"

Severide sighed. "It was just a tough shift, Case, you know how it is," he smiled forcefully, "It's nice to come home and not think about it, ok?"

"Do you want to be on your own?" Casey asked.

"No, I like being with you," he smiled.

"Even though I can't tie my own shoe laces?" Casey questioned with a hint of resentment.

"Why do you think they invented Velcro?" Severide mocked.

"I don't want Velcro shoes," he replied petulantly.

"Damn, there goes my Christmas present idea..." Severide joked.   
  
Casey laughed and forgot all about the thoughts in the back of his head that told him he was being lied to.

Less than two weeks passed, Shay was back at work and everyone was looking forward to the July 4th celebrations. Severide returned home after his shift with a grin across his face, Casey's enthusiasm for the forthcoming party at Molly's had been infectious, but his grin faded as soon as he saw the empty dining room table where his friend would usually be sitting with breakfast at this time of day. His happy mood quickly dissipated as he saw James walk out of Casey's bedroom and quietly shut the door, the man shook his head as he saw Severide.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"He woke up in the middle of the night, had seizure in the bathroom," James explained. "He's ok, he didn't hurt himself, it didn't last very long but he's exhausted now."

Severide sighed. "He's not going to want to go out later. Damnit..." he shook his head at the unfairness. "He'd been looking forward to Herrmann's party all week, he finally trusted us saying that the new meds were working, obviously they're not if this happened?"

"He could just need a slight adjustment, the absences have definitely reduced this time," James replied.

Shaking his head again he spoke, "Maybe he'll be ok, maybe he'll still want to go out to the party, he was really forward to it, maybe he won't let this affect him." Severide hoped but he had been right with his first assumption; Casey wouldn't want to leave the house after yet another grand mal seizure.

Casey was sitting in silence in his doctor's office the next day, letting the 'adults' talk, another change in medication, this time they were scrapping the Lamotrigine completely and going with Valproate, if it didn't work or he experienced side effects they would then try a combination of AEDs. Casey knew he should care, knew he should be interested, or at least feign interest, but he couldn't because he really didn't care, everything was a mess and no pills were going to fix him. A gentle tap on his knee drew him away from his thoughts, he looked up at Severide. "What do you think?" he questioned, "Case?"

"Sure..." Casey replied as he looked at the brightly coloured posters on the back of the door.

"Were you listening at all in there?" Severide asked him as they walked away from the office and towards the hospital exit.

"No," he replied, using the wall momentarily for balance before Severide took his arm.

"Did you try?" Severide asked.

"No," he said and took his arm back, reasserting an act of independence.

The days passed by without incident, Casey remained his stubborn self and barely left the house, it was Friday night, now a traditional movie night when Shay and Severide weren't on shift but Casey was in his room, the new medication made him tired, coupled with the fact that he still wasn't sleeping well at night, forcing him to sleep most of the afternoon.

Shay placed a bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. "I'll go see if he's awake, this morning he was adamant that it was his turn to choose the movie."

"If we have to watch 'Independence Day' one more time I think I'll cry," he mocked as Shay wandered into Casey's room.

"Kelly, call an ambulance!" Shay called from the bedroom suddenly. Severide shot up from the couch, grabbed his phone and immediately dialled 911.

He rushed into Casey's bedroom, still on the phone to the operator. "They're on the way," he stated.

Casey was on the bed seizing. "It stopped and started again," she explained the need for the ambulance. "Get me the Midazolam..." She remained with Casey, making sure he didn't injure himself whilst Severide hurried to the kitchen where Casey's supply of medication was kept.

"Here." Severide passed the dropper to her.

A few minutes after she administered it she sighed. "Damnit, it's not working."

The paramedics arrived ten minutes later and quickly gave him a shot of diazepam and moved him onto the gurney. Shay had explained that he'd been seizing on and off for at least twenty minutes without gaining consciousness. The convulsions stopped, they strapped him into the gurney and rushed him out the door to the awaiting ambulance.  
  
"Go with him," Severide ordered Shay, "I'll follow in the car." He knew Shay would be more objective, more able to process everything that happened to their friend, more able to remain calm so he watched helplessly as the ambulance doors were closed and Casey was driven off with the lights and sirens blaring.


	7. Strength

Casey seized again in the ambulance, his body spasmed and strained against the thick black restraints. Big dark bruises would soon form where they lay. He struggled to breathe. As his body convulsed he couldn't take a breath. The constant straining burst a blood vessel in his left eye. He was completely unaware of his surroundings and soon left the conscious world entirely.

"Matt Casey, 33 year old male, known seizure disorder, he's been seizing on and off for at least half an hour with no return to consciousness. Given midazolam before we arrived and diazepam at the scene but seized again on route," the paramedic announced as Casey was rushed into the emergency room with Shay by his side. Severide arrived moments later having sped along behind them but they were both ushered away by the nurse.

They administrated more diazepam when Casey seized again but the convulsions continued for another four minutes until there was just a slight tremor in his right hand, at the rate he was going they were worried about oxygen deprivation, dying neurons and further brain damage. The monitors screamed and warned them of his racing heart and low oxygen level. The EEG showed the unusual electrical activity in his brain.

"He's still seizing," the junior doctor said as he looked up at the monitor.

"Get a central line in," the doctor ordered.

"His pupils are fixed," a nurse stated as she checked his reactions.

"Get me some lorazepam and phenytoin."

The nurse passed the doctor the syringe with a questioning look.

"He's dead if we don't." The doctor would rather overload Casey with benzodiazepines and risk respiratory failure than let him continue seizing. The EEG activity normalised, she checked his O2 stats. "Can I get an arterial line in," she asked the junior doctor by her side. She leant over Casey to check his pupils. "Pupils are reactive," she stated with a satisfied sigh. "Matt? Matt, can you hear me?"

Casey's eyes flickered open and closed but the doctor was happy with that reaction.

"Has he got family here?" she asked as she took off her gloves.

One of the nurses nodded. "Waiting room."

The doctor went to inform them of Casey's condition. The change in medication had set the seizure off. Switching from one medication to the other had caused a neurotoxic reaction, it was rare but it happened and when Casey discovered this he would laugh, his doctor would become concerned at the reaction but Severide would know he was laughing at the absurdity of the situation, of course something rare would have to happen to him after everything he'd already been through.

The ER doctor barely got his name out before Severide and Shay rushed over to her. "How is he?" Severide asked urgently.

"It's a dangerous situation for his body to be in, especially with the damage his brain has already sustained, his doctor is in surgery at the moment but will see him as soon as he's out, all signs indicate that he should be ok but…" she explained.

"But brain injuries are tricky," Severide supplied, "Yeah... we know."

"We're transferring him up to the ICU, the drug's he's been given put him at a high risk for respiratory failure," she said.

"The drugs you've given to help him might stop him breathing? How is that…" Severide began with annoyance.

"Kelly..." Shay warned. "They know what they're doing. Can we see him?"

Casey had started to hide his limitations well but now he was stripped bare, in pain, exhausted and nauseous, he couldn't even think about disguising any of his inabilities. His eyes were unfocused from all the medication they had given him, he could barely think at the moment and would likely lose this brief moment of lucidity but he was glad Severide was with him. His body ached. There were already vivid bruises on his pale skin from the restraints in the ambulance.

"Hey," Severide spoke softly, "You're ok."

Casey felt a gentle squeeze to his hand as Severide reassured him, he didn't know what had happened, why he was here, or exactly where here was, Severide must have understood his expression, although Severide insisted he always had a slightly puzzled look about him nowadays.

"We're in the hospital but you're ok." Severide watched as Casey's eyes drifted close, the oxygen mask and EEG electrodes obscured most of his face but Severide was happy that he didn't seem to be in any pain, his expression had been laced with confusion but that wasn't surprising.

"How is he?" Severide asked when the nurse checked Casey's vitals.

"His O2 stats are low but they're holding where they are, his…" she stopped, "He should be ok."

"He was awake, sort of, he looked… confused…" Severide began.

"We won't know if there's any further damage until the drugs are out of his system; he's had a lot of nerve depressants and AEDs," she explained. The aftereffects of Casey's seizures, the disorientation and tiredness, tended to last about a day; he would sleep it off and would spend the next day doing very little. The aftereffects of the status epilepticus would be much more severe, if the doctors had been unable to stop the seizures they would have been forced to put him an induced coma, fortunately for his already damaged brain that had not been the case. The threat of respiratory failure was high, Severide knew the doctor wouldn't have put him in the ICU for no reason, he needed the critical care of all the staff, his brain couldn't afford to be oxygen deprived for long and he was still at risk for further seizures. Casey was still attached to the EEG monitor and he had a rebreather mask feeding him a fresh supply of oxygen. The central line had been inserted so they could provide medication to his body as quickly as possible whilst the arterial line and pulse oximeter assessed his O2 levels. All the medication he had been given had depressed his nervous system so a catheter had also been inserted.

Over the next forty-eight hours they became increasingly satisfied that Casey hadn't suffered further neurological damage. He had been tested and prodded by his doctors, he hated the invasive setting of the ICU but he was too tired and disorientated to complain or become agitated. Severide and Shay spent most of the visiting hours by Casey's side. James and popped by as well. His whole body ached, he could barely lift his arms when asked but the doctors weren't worried, his body had been put through a lot of stress and was still quite heavily medicated. The rebreather mask had been replaced with a nasal cannula. He spent most his time unconscious and his brief moments awake were spent listening to voices and sounds, he could hear but he didn't understand, the drugs, mixed with his postictal state left him unable to make sense of his surroundings and unaware of what had happened; it was as if he was wrapped up in a blanket of darkness and stuffed full of cotton wool, it wasn't unpleasant, but it would be when he truly woke up to discover the aches and pain his body felt, the nausea that would spread through him in waves, the headaches and confusion.

"Shay…" Casey's eyes were opened and he looked at her blearily, his voice was barely above the sound of a whisper.

"Hey, Matt," she smiled and pushed the stool closer to the bed so she could take his hand. "Kelly and James are here too, they're just getting coffee."

"Coffee..." he repeated slowly. "I miss... coffee." He smiled tiredly and let his eyes close.

Shay smiled at his admission. "Tired?" she questioned when he didn't open his eyes again.

"Bright..." he muttered.

"Yeah," she said, briefly looking round the ICU at all the beds and monitors. "You're being moved to a private room later. Do you have a headache?" she asked when he scrunched his eyes up.

"Mmm..." he mumbled.

"Feel sick?" she questioned, knowing how nauseous he usually felt following a seizure.

He took a deep breath. "Not so... so bad," he responded.

"Ok, I'm going to see if they can give you something for the headache." She squeezed his hand as she stood up. "I'll be back."

Casey was curled up on his side in the private hospital room when Severide informed him; "You can go home tomorrow if you eat dinner and breakfast." Casey had been up and about in the last twenty-four hours; the catheter had him removed along with the arterial line and EEG monitor. He'd completed more of the necessary neurological tests once again and they were satisfied with the results. He was stiff and unsteady on his feet but he had joked it off by saying he was always unsteady on his feet now. More physical therapy sessions had been suggested and Severide was going to urge him to go, at least for the next few weeks.

The pain of his tired and aching body diminished any hunger that Casey should have felt after days with no food, only IV nutrition, but he ate dinner and kept it down despite the fact he could feel his stomach lurching with every bite. Severide saw the nausea Casey felt across his face, before breakfast they gave him some antiemetic's to prevent the constant feeling that he was going to be sick, it worked and Casey actually enjoyed his food and was soon discharged into Severide's care.

"Into bed," Severide said as he led Casey into the house.

Severide helped Casey out of his joggers and change his top before pulling the covers up over his friend. Casey lay on his side appreciating the familiar smell of the fabric conditioner on his pillow, thankful to be out of the hospital away from the scratchy sheets and unfamiliar sterile smells.

Severide copied Casey's smile and explained, "I've put the electric blanket on for an hour, hopefully you won't feel so sore when you wake up; I'm at home all day today and tomorrow. You don't need to be anywhere tomorrow so you can stay in bed if you want." He wasn't sure how much Casey had heard as he'd fallen asleep. Severide watched as the bed covers rose and fell in time with his steady breathing before leaving him be for the night.

Casey did spend the whole day in bed; he slept most of it, wrapped up in the safe cocoon of his duvet. Severide checked in on him, he made sure he drank and wasn't too hot or too cold but Casey wouldn't remember any of Severide's administrations when he woke up the next day.

"You're awake," Severide said with a little surprise when Casey appeared out of his bedroom. "And up," he frowned.

Slowly Casey walked over to the couch where Severide was sitting. I'm ok," he spoke, shrugging, "Might fall over and forget things but I'm not going to shatter."

"Ok," Severide nodded.

"I'm starving," he smiled, "Is it breakfast time?"

Severide grinned, "It's 1pm."

"Oh," he mouthed.

"Would you prefer breakfast to lunch?" Severide asked, standing up from the couch.

Casey nodded. "How long was I in bed?" he frowned, "How long was I in... hospital? Hospital right? … Don't really remember it…"

"You got home from the hospital yesterday lunchtime," Severide explained, "You were there for four days."

He frowned. "Didn't feel that long."

"You were pretty out of it most the time," Severide said.

He scoffed. "I'm always pretty out of it," he grinned.

Severide laughed and nodded in agreement, happy Casey seemed to be unaffected by everything that had happened, which surprised him a little as his previous seizure had left him unable to leave the house out of fear but Severide supposed if he had little memory of the events that took place it was a blessing; it had been petrifying seeing him in the ICU again, he could only think how terrifying it had been the previous time when they didn't know if he would wake. He shook his head of his morbid thoughts and smiled at Casey. "Let's go make some breakfast."

James and Casey were in the kitchen getting ready for dinner, it was Severide's first shift back at work since Casey had returned home from the hospital. "Can you pass me a fork please, Matt?" James asked as he cracked the eggs into the measuring jug.

"Uh huh," Casey put down the recipe book he had been holding and opened the cutlery draw.

"Matt?" James turned around to see Casey staring down into the open draw.

"I… I..." he stuttered, his eyes not leaving the vast arrangement of cutlery.

"It's ok, Matt," James reassured him, "You've had a rough week, don't worry about it."

But Casey did worry about it and he was preoccupied for the rest of the night, but fortunately the incident seemed to be forgotten by the time Severide arrived home in the morning, James mentioned it to him as they all needed to be on the lookout for any changes with Casey especially after his recent seizure.

Casey's words fail him not only when he's tired but when he was surprised. One afternoon a few weeks after his hospital stay he opened the door to find his mom and sister standing before him. He opened his mouth only to find no words came after his mother greeted him. "Matthew," she'd smiled warmly as if she'd not been uncontactable over five months ago.

His sister smiled. "Are you going to let us in?"

He frowned, he didn't want to invite them into his home but still lost for words he moved aside and allowed them to enter, as they walked further into the house he finally found his words. "Kelly's out," he said. This was important to him, he was currently on his own, trusted to look after himself for a couple of hours whilst Severide was out running, his sister and mother dismissed this important act of independence, they didn't know he was rarely by himself, they didn't know much about him anymore, but they hadn't before either.

It was strange seeing the two of them sitting together opposite him as he sat down in the chair without offering drinks or snacks, the thought never even crossed his mind, they had been at odds for what seemed like the best part of Casey's life and here they were together. They even sat the same way. Casey didn't say anything; he didn't know what to say.

His mother broke the silence. "How are you?" she asked. She eyed the silver medic-alert bracelet on her son's wrist, the wrist itself was thinner than she could ever remember.

"Fine," he replied stiffly, uncertain why they were here.

"You're not working?" she asked, a sore subject on Casey's part at the moment as he spent most of his waking hours feeling rather useless, he just shook his head. "Are you doing all right for money?"

"Yes," he said, agitation evident in his tone.

"Are you sure?" she questioned as she looked round at the house as if she was assessing the cost of its upkeep.

"I don't need your help," he stated.

"Will you be going back to work? I thought you loved your job? And what about your business? I was always so proud of you, Matthew," she spoke softly.

Casey's heart was racing and he had to take a moment to order his words. "I can't go back to work."

"What are you going to do? Christie says you've come on a lot since the accident," she said.

"Did… did... did she say she wanted to put me in... in... in a home?" he stuttered.

"She was doing what she thought was best," she stated, "Could you think about going to work now you're better?"

"Better?" he frowned, "I can't… I'm not allowed… I'm epileptic, I have seizures," he said, he didn't explain about his diminished cognitive skills and motor functions, why should he explain himself to his mother when she had seemingly disappeared, he shook his head, "Why are you here?" he asked scathingly, there were no floodgates to hold back his true thoughts and feelings so it was perfect timing when the front door opened.

"Case, I'm back!" Severide called into the lounge as he took off his shoes. "I'm gonna have a shower and then we can make…" he trailed off when he saw that Casey had visitors and after taking one quick look at his friend realised they weren't welcome. "Hello..." he announced slowly, "Christie, Casey's mom…"

"Hello, Kelly," Christie replied.

"Nancy," Casey's mom supplied.

"Yeah… We've met," Severide said.

"Right, at the firehouse," she replied, "Do you leave my son on his own often?"

"What?" he frowned.

"You heard me," she questioned.

"Yeah... I did," he frowned.

"I just found out that he's epileptic," she stated.

"Yeah… You'd have known that months ago if…" Severide began.

"Do you leave him on his own a lot?" she asked as if Casey weren't sat a few metres away from her.

"I can be on my own, I can even…" Casey trailed off, impressed with himself that he managed to stop the words that were about to leave his lips – I can even separate my washing into whites and colours now – a fact he'd been happy to tell the neuropsychologist in his session nearly a week ago.

"Honey, I'm not saying that," she replied softly, "But from what Christie's told…"

Casey shook his head. "I'm better now… What…" he stuttered again, "Wh... what do you want? I'm not... not... not going…" he stumbled over his words, he wanted to make it clear that he didn't want to be in an assisted living setting, or care home because that's what he thought when he thought of Christie now; she hadn't wanted him to be at home and the only reason he'd been able to come back here was because of Severide.

"We don't want anything, Matthew, I wanted to check on you, I am your mother," she replied.

"I'm sorry," Casey murmured.

Severide couldn't watch anymore of this, Casey was distressed and he too didn't fully understand why his friend's mother and sister were here after such a long time. "I think it's time for you both to go. We have plans," he announced, "Christie, you have my number; call me if you need anything."

They left. Severide closed the door behind them and walked back to find Casey deep in thought, unconsciously biting his lower lip, Severide leant down in front of him and quickly earned his attention. "What…" he stumbled, "… What did they want?"

"Don't worry about it, Case, they're gone and I don't think they'll be back soon," Severide replied.

"Don't… I don't get it," he frowned, "What…"

Severide sighed and place his hands on Casey's knees. "You know how you always forget stuff and laugh about it?" He smiled. "You should do that with this visit, forget about it, put it at the back of your mind, laugh at it."

He looked panicked now, he wasn't focusing on what Severide was saying. "I haven't seen her for… for what? Two years?" he questioned, "And Christie wanted…"

"Casey," Severide stated in order to draw him back away from his panic.

"Hmm?" he mumbled.

Severide continued now he had his attention. "They probably wanted to make themselves feel better by checking on you, something your mother should have done after all our missed calls," but Casey wasn't consoled, "And now their selfishness has made you feel like crap..." he said offhandedly. "It's Friday," he stated, a distraction technique.

"Movie night?" Casey questioned, a smile tugged at his lips, his distress had faded.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I'll go shower and then we'll have a whole movie day."

Casey woke up one morning to discover an empty dining room and an empty kitchen. He frowned as he checked the time, usually Severide was awake and up before him, he was out of bed the same time as usual so he immediately strolled into Severide's room without knocking wanting to know if his friend was ok. There was a startled yelp as he walked into the bedroom, a very feminine yelp.

"Oh…" Casey breathed, incapable of nothing more. It took his body a moment to comply with his brain but as soon as it did he turned on his heel and walked back out the room.

Severide stepped out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist; there was no sign of Casey so he assumed he was still in bed so he slipped straight back into his room. "Your roommate walked in," the girl stated. He'd met her a few nights ago at a bar and she'd called last night, one thing led to another and she spent the night.

"Oh crap…" he muttered, "Was he ok?"

"What? Yeah..." she shrugged.

He sighed. "Erm… you can let yourself out… Jul…"

"Rebecca," she supplied.

"Rebecca," he smiled, "I'll call you."

"No you won't," she replied.

"No," he shook his head, "I won't."

Casey was sitting on his bed when Severide entered his room. "Who was she?" he asked.

"No one." Severide shrugged. He sat down next to Casey.

"Good to know you're getting back to your old ways," he smiled.

Severide scoffed. "Really?" he grinned.

"Thought you'd gone celibate," Casey laughed.

"Celibate, that's a fancy word for you," he mocked. "You don't mind that she came here?"

"Why would I?" Casey asked, "It's your house too, couldn't be here if you weren't… I'd probably burn the place down or starve or I dunno…" he shrugged.

"Useless without me," Severide joked.

Casey laughed. "Yup. Just keep bring the hot women home and I'm happy."

Severide watched as his laugh faded and glimmer of sadness appeared in Casey's bright eyes. "Hey," he touched his arm, bringing attention back to the present, "Looking forward to this afternoon?" he asked.

Casey nodded. "I am."


	8. No Regrets

Standing in the swimming pool changing room Casey tightened the drawstring to his swim shorts. He wasn't very comfortable in his own body anymore. He didn't trust it. He still had difficulty gripping anything smaller than a mug, and more than half the time when he went to pick up something smaller he would miss the object entirely. He wanted to blame his inability to write anything intelligible on his incapability to hold a pen for very long, Shay had even bought him some easy grip pens, but it was his lack of motor functions that were entirely to blame, it was the scar tissue that now remained in his brain where the fragments of skull had been. He was pale. He couldn't even remember being so pale because he was always out of the house, active and enjoying the outdoors. He seemed smaller than before, weaker; he was toned but not overly muscular like before. He looked down at his pale chest longing to trust his own body again but he knew he'd most likely graze the end locker as he walked past it, his brain would misjudge the distance, he was already a little unsteady on his feet, his head just couldn't compute the area around him, it couldn't process fast enough when he was moving.

Casey walked out of the changing room apprehensively, Severide was still changing. "Matt Casey?" a broad man with greying hair greeted him.

"Yes, hi." He ignored the man's outstretched hand, the man was not offended, didn't even bat an eye.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Mike. I'm glad your physical therapist finally persuaded you to come, you used to swim a lot before your accident?" He used to swim, run, box... He used to do all sorts of activities before his accident.

Casey nodded. "Kelly's here too," he stated, not thinking that the man wouldn't know who Severide was.

"Good the more the merrier," the man smiled, "These sessions don't usually get busy at all, I'm right here if you need any help!"

"I think I'll be ok," he replied honestly.

They both turned around to see Severide walk out of the locker room, Casey sniggered.  
  
"What?" Severide frowned, "Jealous?" he mocked.

"Erm… no," Casey smiled as he looked down at Severide's speedos.

"I look good, Matt," he said with a smile, causing Casey to attempt to hold back another snigger.

"There's no one else here, no one's going to see you, no ladies," Casey grinned.

"I look hot, Mr Baggy Board Shorts," he mocked.

"These are cool, and those… those are… they're small, very small," Casey muttered as Severide stepped into the pool.

"Come on then," Severide called after him.

Casey looked apprehensively at the steps and back towards Mike, who nodded reassuringly at him. "You'll be able to stand in it up until that red line," he explained, "I can come in with you and help if you'd like?"

"I'll be fine," he stated – because Kelly's there – he almost said. And he was fine and ended up having the most fun he'd had for such a long time, there wasn't much actual swimming involved as he had tired quickly but just the act of walking through the water had provided invaluable exercise.

A lot of the time people assume that Casey doesn't understand and sometimes that's true, but he hates the feeling he gets when anyone dumbs anything down for him. It feels as if his doctors talk over him when he's sitting in their office, they explain things to him basically and then fully explain them to Severide or James, whoever happened to be accompanying him. He was fed up with his appointments. He had regular scans and even more regular appointments with the neuropsychologist. He didn't understand the point of them, he thought he was dealing with his head injury just fine but he doesn't always remember his panicked outbursts, his frustration sometimes gets the better of him, sometimes he just wants to run away but other times he wants to yell and shout and throw, to physically destroy something because that's how he feels inside at that very moment when the world becomes too overwhelming. The psychologist acknowledges Casey's unwillingness to visit many places, busy places mainly, but Casey shrugs, why should he have to? He didn't do much besides work before so why should he start venturing out where he didn't usually go. Casey does well with a schedule, if he was given a list of instructions he would follow it, if he stuck to it rigidly and blocked out distractions he did well.

"Please just go without me... please..." Casey pleaded the day before the Academy Gala Dinner.

"You've been invited," Severide told him.

"I don't want to go," he shook his head, "Don't want to go."

"It's been written down on the board for weeks," Severide implored. It had been planned, scheduled.

"I know, I know… but I don't want to go, don't... don't... don't make me, Kelly," he looked at him with his eyes wide and pleading.

Severide sighed, "I'm not going to make you, I just thought it would be nice, to do something you used to do?"

"You and Shay can go and enjoy it together, I won't like it... I'll say something stupid or not understand something, I just... just want to stay here," he wanted to stay here where it was safe.

"Ok," Severide finally accepted, "I'll call James."

But James wasn't available, his mother was in town for the night, a stopover between flights home from a holiday.

"I'll be fine on my own, you're not going to be gone all night so... so I'll be asleep most of it anyway," Casey insisted.

Severide contemplated coming up with an excuse not to go to the gala himself but perhaps giving Casey a little more independence wasn't a bad thing, what could go wrong within a few more hours of freedom from supervision? He frowned; lots could go wrong. Nevertheless he agreed to it.

It was late when Severide returned home from the gala, he had wanted to go home earlier but he didn't want Casey to think he was worried, despite his anxious constant checking of his phone all night Severide had not received any disastrous messages or phone calls – _hve a gd time_ \- _wachng tv dont wory im good_ – were the only text messages he had received. He'd not heard anything since 8pm but returning home early would be admitting his concern about leaving Casey for more than a few hours and Severide understood the effort it took for his friend to message rather than call, the increased size of the display on his iPhone helped but it was still hard for him to get the exact button he wanted.

Casey was fast asleep on the sofa, he'd neglected to change or use a blanket to keep warm in the cold house but he'd survived the night of with supervision. "Matt?" Severide questioned gently, it wasn't good for him to sleep on the couch; he needed his bed.

"Mmm?" he muttered, "You're back?"

Severide smiled at his friends tiredness, his eyes were bleary and he stuttered out his words. "Come on, you need to go to bed." As Severide helped him up and into bed Casey was mumbling about not burning the house down, not dying or even forgetting to do anything, Severide smiled. "You did good." He failed to mention that he'd forgotten to close the curtains and turn the lights on when it had gotten dark, shower and change, but Casey was right nothing disastrous had happened.

At the firehouse a few weeks later Casey had been dropped off for a couple of hours whilst James ran errands, picking up prescription refills amongst them. "Matt, come here!" Severide called him over.  
  
Casey left Herrmann and walked over to Severide, who was sitting by one of the computers, he looked expectantly at him.  
  
"Sit," Severide provided, he did, "I've got a job for you. Do you remember how this works?"

Casey looked at the computer screen his friend was indicating to, he shrugged uncertainly. "Sure."

"Sure?" Severide smiled, "Call comes in, we respond, you…"

"Is that wise?" Dawson asked as she came nearer to them.

Severide shot her a look but Casey simply said, "She has a point..."

"All you need to do is listen and click, it's even in different colours; child's play," Severide stated with a small shrug.

"Ok," Casey accepted.

Severide stood up and left him, there was someone sitting by the phones if there was an issue, and he wanted Casey to have this independence, this purpose, even if it was just until he grew too tired.

"Childs play?" Dawson questioned him as he walked to his quarters.

"Don't worry, he's fine with it," he told her.

"Don't worry?" she repeated incredulously, as far as she knew Casey's cognitive and motor functions had him incapable of doing most everyday things.

"Yes, don't worry. You gave up the right to worry about him when you left him," he said a little too cruelly, in truth he was always worried about Casey now but he didn't want that to show in front of anyone.

"We'd only been going out a few weeks," she countered defensively.

"He loved you," he said simply before leaving her staring back in the direction they'd just walked from.

"Hey," Dawson said as she returned back to Casey a few moments later, she took a seat next to him. "You ok?" she asked as he repetitively tapped a finger on the desk.  
  
He nodded, he was fine.  
  
She sighed, "I'm sorry, Matt."

"Sorry?" he questioned, eyes still fixed on the computer screen as if he would forget what to do if he took his eyes off it.

"For thinking that you couldn't do this," she replied softly.

"I have the cognitive skills of a child," he stated blandly, he was repeating what the doctors told him, or more accurately what they told Severide as he sat in their office in silence.

"But you've improved a lot," she said, half questioningly.

He just shrugged.

"Matt…" She placed her hand on his wrist; he quickly moved his arm back to himself. "Oh… sorry."  
  
He was looking at her now, his eyes bright and wide.  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I'm sorry I left."

"Kelly says I apologise too much, that I always have," he stated, she frowned but he has a point: "Don't apologise."

"Matt…" she began.

"You have a life, you had to keep living it," he shrugged, "So don't keep saying sorry."

"Is that forgiveness?" she asked.

"What?" he truly didn't understand.

"I left you, for no real reason, for selfish reasons maybe," she admitted.

"You weren't obliged to stay," he replied, "My sister wanted to leave me alone in a care home. My mother's only just appeared and the accident was so long ago. Severide stayed. He didn't have to and I still don't know why he did but he says there doesn't have to be a why, if I keep thinking about all the whys in life then it will confuse my already confused brain," he smiled without even realising how significant his own words were.

"So… Dawson's all gooey eyed over you again," Severide stated the next day with a smirk, Shay shot him a look from the other side of the table, he just shrugged in amusement.

"She's going to retake the physical again," all Casey had heard was Dawson's name, he was looking down at his lunch, he was in the process of separating his salad, categorising it into colours; red, green, purple, yellow.

"Oh yeah? You two chatting a lot then?" Severide questioned.

"We're friends," he told him.

"Do you want more than that?" Severide frowned.

"No," he replied softly, he finally looked up from his plate, "Did she take someone to the gala?" he asked Shay.

"What?" Shay hadn't expected the question.

"The gala, the other week, I thought I was the one who had problems with short term memory," he smiled. It hadn't occurred to him that her question wasn't literal.

"I'm not sure, Casey," she replied gently.

He frowned. "You're not sure? You're friends… oh… she did? But you don't want me to know?"

"She did," Shay admitted.

"Ok. Is he nice?" he asked, "I mean, is she happy?"

"I don't think it's a serious relationship," Shay answered.

"Oh… is she happy though?" he repeated. It was important to him to know, he didn't want her to be unhappy, he had loved her, maybe he still did.

Shay and Severide exchanged looks and Severide replied simply, "Don't worry about her, she's happy."

He nodded, "Good."

A knock on Severide's bedroom door woke him late that night. Casey had taken to knocking before entering his room since the incident a few weeks ago, however, he left no time for a response between knocking and entering which Severide found amusing. The light from the hall flooded into the bedroom as Casey shuffled in. "Can't sleep?" Severide asked, Casey didn't reply, or if he did it was just a nod. "C'mere. Get in," he pulled the bed covers back. When Casey obliged he spoke again, "Don't tell Shay, she'll get jealous."

"No she won't," Casey mumbled with a frown that was unseen in the darkness.

"No, she won't," Severide agreed, smiling. He sobered and asked, "Why can't you sleep?" He knew the answer; Casey had been having nightmares for the last few nights, nightmares about the accident and his hospital stay, the fire, the baby girls cries, the pain, the feeling of being trapped and the helplessness of it all.

"Just can't," his voice was muffled by the pillow. He'd become good at omitting the truth recently, nearly back to his old self.

Severide rolled onto his side. "Want me to read something?" – To distract you.

Casey moved to face him. "I'm ok." – I'm not.

"Ok," Severide replied, "So have I told you about Mouch and Herrmann's latest mishap?" And Severide continued to speak as Casey fell to sleep beside him. The next day nothing was spoken of his nightmare and trip into Severide's bedroom.

Casey's world consisted of regular hospital visits. His life was scheduled down to the hour. The labels on most of the draws and cupboards in his house were still present. He wasn't left on his own for more than a few hours. James was a constant companion when Severide or Shay were absent. Instead of doing drills he now did puzzles. Instead of fighting fires he now matched pictures to texts. Instead of saving lives he just grasped for his own. Instead of leading he followed instructions. Instead of running he swam. He still watched ice hockey games but struggled to follow them. He went to the firehouse regularly and was a welcome sight there every time. He still went to Molly's, he would sit with Shay, Severide and the others as they recalled various antics.

"Designated driver?" the blonde asked as she sat next to Casey at the table, Severide had gone up to the bar to get another drink.

Casey looked down at his orange juice, floundered a little then answered. "I can't drive." His seizures had stripped him from his licence although he wondered if they still would have taken away that freedom with just the damage done to his brain.

"Really?" she asked unbelievably.

"I can but I'm not allowed," he said honestly, he was tired, his mind and body ached with the lateness of the hour.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," he frowned.

"Hi," Severide greeted cheerfully when he returned back to Casey with a drink in hand. "You here alone?" he asked as he sat down.

"Kel…" Casey looked mildly shocked at his forwardness.

"Do you have a friend here?" Severide asked her.

"At the bar," she smiled and pointed to a redhead in a tight black dress.

"You two have plans for the rest of the night?" Severide grinned.

"Not at…" she began.

"They don't have plans. Not with us," Casey said hurriedly.

"Case…" he frowned, if he hadn't had a couple of beers he could have understood Casey's objections immediately.

"I erm... need to go… get a drink," the blonde stood up as she made her excuse to leave.

"Matt?" Severide questioned.

"Sorry… Ruined your night but I'm not…" Casey stumbled over his words, nervous and agitated.

"How long has it been? You need to get laid, Casey," Severide grinned.

"Not like that," he shook his head, "Not some random stranger. I don't want that."

"You want a meaningful relationship? Ok," Severide nodded.

"Yes but no… I just want to do it myself, it's…" he explained.

"It's private." Severide understood, Casey wanted this to be for himself, he was constantly helped and he didn't want any assistance with this, he just needed his confidence back, he had the looks but he didn't believe in himself, didn't trust himself. Alcohol would have helped Casey but now, like caffeine, he couldn't drink much of it at all. It wouldn't be fair for him to go through the rest of his life alone, not when he'd always wanted his own family, but Severide supposed at least he still had the firehouse family. Casey would argue that he had Severide but his psychologist would try to dissuade him from giving too much attachment to a man who wasn't family, who had his own life to live, but Casey had none of it; they were brothers, they had been through so much together, they argued but they had each other's backs. They'd do anything for each other.

Casey was sitting in the firehouse on his own by the computer waiting for any calls, it had been a slow day and his concentration was continually dropping. Boden spotted him and asked him to come into the office, he'd protested at first, after all Severide had instructed him to stay by the desk and concentrate.

Boden sat down behind his desk and faced his former truck lieutenant; he felt a knot of sadness, regret even, in the pit of his stomach whenever he was around him, whenever he thought of him. There was a man who had been brilliant at what he did, in his opinion, and many others, he'd been one of the best lieutenants in the city. He kept a good team, he knew where to draw the line between leader and friend. He was fantastic with victims, adults and children. He wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done. There had been issues but they had been understandable, he got angry or hid his emotions. He was, had been, a great lieutenant, a great man who had been reduced to dependence and regular hospital visits all because he saved a life, because he insisted that he was the one to go back for the baby because he didn't have a family, he didn't have anyone he felt he needed to live for. Casey had risked his life and sacrificed it because he would never have the life he led before he saved that child.

"If you ever do want to try something, headquarters, anything, I'll sort it," Boden explained as he looked at the man who sat before him.

"Thanks, Chief," he smiled, "I know I'd be pretty useless though."

"You're not use…" Boden began.

"Not at everything but I'd be a liability," he stated eloquently and added quickly, "And I don't mind, I understand what I can and can't do, I'd be in the way, whatever I tried, Kelly still has to remind me how to use the dishwasher, and people look at me like… like I'm different, like I'm going to say something stupid or do something stupid… Which I guess I do…" he frowned as he trailed off, he'd lost what he was saying but it didn't matter, he'd got his point across without even knowing it.

"Do you regret it?" Boden asked.

Casey shook his head and spoke without hesitation. "No. I'd do it again. Even if I knew the future I'll still have done it," he sighed, thinking, "Could I have lived with myself if I'd decided to leave that baby in the building?" He shook his head. "Maybe eventually but not really… And maybe that baby will grow up and cure cancer… create world peace… who knows..." he shrugged and smiled self-deprecatingly. "My job is replaceable, someone else is now saving lives instead of me, but someone's life isn't replaceable… so, yeah, I don't regret it. I'll always wonder what could have been, wish things were different, but that's not regret."


End file.
